


Commands and Contrasts

by ravingrevolution



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, Captivity, F/F, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, References to Torture, Scenting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 15:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 88,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravingrevolution/pseuds/ravingrevolution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Collared Alphas are Careful Alphas"</p>
<p>Seriously? What the hell was that? Because putting a collar on someone was supposed to make them manageable or something? Sure thing.</p>
<p>Or: "Mated Betas are Better Betas"</p>
<p>Again with the control issues. But then again betas were by far the most common classification type, so Stiles assumed that was mainly posted to keep things kind of even.</p>
<p>His least favorite was definitely: "Keep Omegas Pure - Report Uncollared Unmated Alphas Always"</p>
<p>Just wow.</p>
<p>Stiles attended all the home economics classes, like a good omega, and took all his pills, like a good omega, and outwardly submitted to authority, like a good omega, but he didn’t buy into the whole structure dynamic thing. He just didn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sure, being an omega wasn’t all rainbows and fun and games (and babies, ugh), but to Stiles, it seemed like being an alpha was way worse. Of course, omega pregnancy didn’t look to be all that much fun (despite what the school’s pro-breeding propaganda posters said) and being locked up during heats for his own safety was a bit of a drag, but it was one thousand percent better than being controlled by the counsel, chained up and paraded around like a dog.

That.

That was just wrong.

Now, Stiles had never really been considered a _good_ omega. Sure, he took his supplements and suppressors when he was supposed to, he kept his body clean and didn’t let anyone bad-touch him.

Ha.

As if he had any choice in the matter.

Hell, if someone, pretty much anyone, really, had volunteered to touch him at all, he’d be way okay with it. Super duper okay with it.

But no, so in that regard he was a stand-up omega. Not like Scott and his current status as _tainted_ omega. Yeah, Allison had something to do with that. Beta Allison and pheromones and lots of sexytimes. Many times. Times Stiles was really okay with never hearing about ever again ever. Thanks for the overshare, Scott.

But Stiles? He was a different kind of bad omega. It wasn’t any physiological failing, though. As far as he could tell, his body functioned just the same as any of the others in his class. No, it was more of a fundamental failure going on. A basic case of faulty wiring that made him question everything that went into the dynamics posters papering the hallways of school and all the other public buildings.

Things like: _Collared Alphas are Careful Alphas_

Seriously? What the hell was that? Because putting a collar on someone was supposed to make them manageable or something? Sure thing.

Or: _Mated Betas are Better Betas_

Again with the control issues. But then again betas were by far the most common classification type, so Stiles assumed that was mainly posted to keep things kind of even.

His least favorite was definitely: _Keep Omegas Pure - Report Uncollared Unmated Alphas Always_

Just wow.

Stiles attended all the home economics classes, like a good omega, and took all his pills, like a good omega, and outwardly submitted to authority, like a good omega, but he didn’t buy into the whole structure dynamic thing. He just didn’t.

It probably had something to do with his mom. She’d been an alpha, a strong one from a powerful family. When she’d given birth to Stiles he knew it had been an event. Not many alphas gave birth, and of those, it was extremely rare for them to have an omega child. She and his dad, a beta, hasn't treated Stiles any differently, though. He'd had as much free choice as anyone his age, and learned to respect people who deserved it.

He only saw his mother wear her state-issued collar once. Since she was mated and was therefore considered a non-threat to any wandering omegas, it wasn't normally a requirement. It was the summer after he turned eight, during the annual solstice ceremony. She was among the alphas chosen to serve as the honor guard for the handful of unmated omegas who were set to be released into the hunting grounds for the annual mating run. Stiles watched in distracted interest, then immense horror as his mother went from the sunny-haired woman to a massive grey wolf with black-tipped fur in the blink of an eye. All of the other alpha guards were in their wolf forms as well.

It was then he realized that it wasn’t just some symbolic method of control, not just a psychological weapon to remind the alphas of who was in charge. No, the collars could actually control the change. They could be used to trigger a full or partial shift. They could keep an alpha in any of their three forms; human, hybrid, or wolf.

She used to take him to the woods when his dad was working and they would shift into their wolf forms together. It had been exhilarating, feeling the crisp leaves crunch under foot, smelling the trailing scents of the native animals, running with his alpha. But then she was in control of herself, not collared and forced into her most primal form.

That was also the last time he saw his mother.

It was, uncoincidentally, also the day of the beta uprising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Of course I fail at math and had to go back an adjust Stiles' age when his mother died to eight years old, instead of nine. Not that this is vital stuff, or anything, just an oversight on my part.


	2. Chapter 2

So there he was, almost nine years later, riding the omega bus home from a lackluster day of school and contemplating the unfairness of the whole stupid system. Stiles had spent the day learning how to get blood stains out of leather, the best method to cut and serve a mango, and the fastest way to escape a room if two unmated alphas began to fight for the right to claim him. Of course he had also managed to evade his beta teachers for the better part of the class period after that particular lesson, though they'd caught him before he could figure out how to slip out of the library window. Stiles was not looking forward to his father's inevitable disapproving look when he read Stiles' daily behavior report.

The bus was hot and crowded with the other omegas that also lived on the east side of Beacon Hills. A few weeks ago Stiles would have been joking with Scott, his best friend and former seat-mate, but after he and Allison had gotten it on the counsel had deemed him unworthy of unnecessarily associating with the other unmated omegas and banned him from riding the bus. Instead, Stiles was stuck with Greenberg, who, while nice enough, always kind of smelled like cheese.

"Looks like rain," Greenberg said.

Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes because seriously? The weather? That's what he'd been reduced to discussing?

"Yep," he said instead of the many many other things he was thinking but knew better than to say out loud. Greenberg was a good kid on the more sensitive end of the emotional spectrum, and Stiles didn't think hurting the guy's feelings would do anything to improve his own shitty mood.

Seeing the other omega's hopeful look, Stiles opened his mouth to say something about their lessons when he saw something flash outside.

"What-" he began, but then the bus jerked sideways and screeched to a halt in the middle of the rural road out by where Stacie Allen's family lived. The buses’ blue emergency lights bathed the startled omegas and Stiles moved with practiced quickness as he tore the backing off the seat in front of him, untangled his mask from the other one and slipped it over his head, cinching the straps until it sealed around his face. His dad had made him practice the maneuver every night for his entire life, just in case. Apparently, Greenberg had no such coaching because it took nearly a minute for the two of them to wrestle it on over his thick curls. Stiles came to the distracted realization his buzz cut was more than just an economical hairstyle and silently thanked his dad.

There was a tense, panting moment in which the omegas sat stunned in their seats, most with masks on and hands clutching to each other with their ramped up psychological need for comfort when under duress, and then the two sets of front doors burst open, one after the other.

Stiles' ears popped at the sudden change in air pressure. He pressed his mask tighter to his face, even though he knew the seal was good and he didn't have to worry about the gas canister that was flung down the aisle to stop by Curt Simmons. Noxious-looking green gas, artificial pheromones manufactured to mimic the calming affect alphas could have on omegas, spewed out of the sides, making Curt yelp and try to scramble back over his seat, but Stacie pushed him back and suddenly all the omegas were scrambling in the eerie blue and green air, whimpering and yelping for help.

Stiles went into the brace position when it looked like Ryan Waters was going to try climbing over him, but Greenberg pushed him back and grabbed Stiles' arm with both hands.

"We have to get out," he yelled, even though their masks were close enough to touch.

Stiles nodded and looked up the aisle, where it looked like counsel guards, collared alphas wearing their own masks and official dark jumpsuits, were herding the omegas out of the busted doors. It didn’t really make much sense, but the counsel was known for doing whatever it wanted.

"Come to the exit, little omegas, you're safe with us," one of them said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing tone.

Stiles' hackles rose.

Well, not literally, since he was in his human form, but something about the alpha's voice just didn't sound right, plus the sudden stop and the doors and the gas. As Stiles and Greenberg passed the guard, he looked up at the alpha's mask and nearly froze when he saw the man's eyes flash yellow.

Yellow, not red. He was a beta.

It was a trap.

He has the sudden memory of seeing his mother's black and grey coat soaked red, betas charging half-turned, the closest they could get to wolf form, running through the forest, their fangs stained with alpha blood as they hunted them down in blood-lust.  
Stiles wrenched his arm from Greenberg's grasp and rushed to the door, stripping off his mask and leaping the threshold, forcing himself to fully change despite his clothes and boots and the fact he really wasn’t supposed to without an alpha’s supervision. The gravel on the road's shoulder made him and the false alphas slip, but he was faster in his form than they were in theirs. He bolted into the dense forest, instinct had him zig and zag to avoid the tranquilizer guns they fired after him in the growing twilight.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn’t know how long he ran, but the moment he crossed over into Hale territory he threw back his head and howled. The Hales were almost all mated alphas, and had long been the most powerful pack in Beacon Hills. Stiles knew he would be safe under their protection.

Sure enough, moments after he’d called for help there were half a dozen Hales in human form surrounding him, all of them alphas, all of them uncollared. Stiles collapsed onto his belly, panting from the run and leftover fear still buzzing dizzily through him.

Talia, the matriarch of the pack and head alpha, stepped forward and Stiles bared his throat with a whine.

“Calm down, please,” she said. Even though she didn’t put any force into it, Stiles felt his trembling subside. “Can you shift back? Shhh, it’s fine if you can’t right now. There’s no need to be afraid, anymore. I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

Stiles locked his muscles to keep from either bolting or leaning against the cool hand Talia placed on his furred cheek. She brought it up to her nose and sniffed.

“You smell like a lot of unclaimed omegas; from the high school, I assume. And someone familiar,” she closed her eyes and sniffed again, “Ah, yes, Sheriff Stilinski.”

Stiles ears perked forward.

“You’re the sheriff’s son?”

“Stiles,” one of the other alphas said. Stiles vaguely recognized him from some of his father’s old case files involving attempted murder or arson or something. He was Derek Hale, Talia's oldest son. Stiles had no idea how Derek knew his name, except he assumed any unmated alpha would know about the unclaimed omegas in town, but still, it was odd.

“Stiles Stilinski?” Talia said, looking slightly amused.

He nodded, glad the gesture translated well in both his forms.

Talia clapped her hands together, getting the attention of all of the alphas, some of whom had wandered a little ways into the forest, their heads raised to track Stiles’ frantic flight. “Laura, change forms, lead Stiles back to the house. I want you and Mark to get him cleaned up and calmed down. See if he’ll change back and tell you what happened,” she waited for Laura to nod, silently, then turned to Stiles. “I’ll contact the sheriff and let him know you’re safe, Stiles,” she continued, “I know you’re confused and afraid, but we’re going to make sure nothing happens to you. I’ll let your father know where you are and, if we can figure it out, what happened.”

The other dark haired woman, Laura, stripped off her clothes and dropped down into wolf form. She was a large black wolf, just a little bigger than Stiles, sleek and graceful-looking. She smelled like another omega and it made Stiles relax fractionally, knowing she was mated and wouldn’t try to take him by force, even if a part of his basic biology clawed frantically at him to roll over and just let someone claim him so he wouldn’t feel so afraid. Stiles ignored that part of his mind.

“Derek,” Talia said, “go with your sister.”

The young man nodded curtly and collected Laura’s discarded clothes, but made no move to change forms. He didn’t smell like an omega and Stiles sidled closer to Laura. Mated alphas put their own omega’s needs first, but still operated under the biological imperative to protect and care for any omega, particularly those who were swimming in fear-stink like Stiles. Unmated alphas had the same drive, but part of their protective instinct was to claim the unmated, especially if they seemed to be in danger.

   

The run to the Hale house was quick with Laura leading the way, Stiles close at her side, and Derek loping easily behind in his human form. Stiles admired Derek’s strength, knowing he would have never been able to keep up if he’d been on two legs instead of four. An omega, Mark, Stiles assumed, met them on the large porch. He radiated concern when he saw Stiles and it took everything in himself not to barrel into the omega and demand a hug.

Laura shifted immediately and explained the situation to her mate, absently taking her clothes from Derek, who quickly moved away when Stiles hid behind Mark.

“Don’t think he likes you, Der,” Laura said, which they all knew was a total lie. Stiles was at war with his instincts, at once fearing yet wanting to submit to the unmated, uncollared, alpha. “Maybe you should go inside and make something for him to drink.” She looked down at Stiles, who was doing a pretty good job of merging with the side of the house in order to keep himself from lunging either at her brother or back into the forest. “Hot chocolate work for you?”

Stiles barely managed to keep his tail from wagging, but she seemed to take his posture as a yes, anyway.

“Our guest would like hot chocolate,” she told her brother, “we’ll be upstairs in our bathroom. Come on, Stiles, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Stiles waited until Derek had entered the house and disappeared somewhere on the first floor, likely into the kitchen, before following Laura and Mark up the broad staircase and down the hallway through a bedroom that smelled strongly of their combined scents to an attached bathroom.

“This would be easier if you changed back,” Laura said, grabbing a washcloth and turning on the sink, but she didn’t put any kind of command into her voice, so Stiles was free to stay in his wolf form. It made him feel safer, more in control and a lot less likely to burst into tears over how much the entire situation was stressing him out.

Mark sat cross-legged on the rug in front of the sink, “Leave him be, Laura, he’s scared. I can smell some artificial pheromones on him, too. I think someone tried to drug him, and probably the other omegas he was with.” Mark offered his hand to Stiles, who sniffed him for a second to familiarize himself with the other wolf, then moved so Mark was touching his head, an open invitation to the omega. Mark took it as the permission it was intended as and wrapped his long arms around Stiles, drawing him onto Mark’s lap, even though he was too big to fit all the way, so Laura could clean his muddy fur.

Stiles melted into the embrace, wiggling so his nose was tucked under one of Mark’s arms, letting the thick omega scent envelop and calm him. Omegas were made to cuddle, Stiles had discovered after his first sleepover with Scott when they were five. Curling up with another omega was one of the most relaxing and mellowing things he could think of doing.

Neither of Stiles’ parents were omegas, so the realization had completely altered his world view as a child. His dad was good at giving hugs, but that probably had more to do with him being a Stilinski and Stiles’ dad than him being a beta. Curling up with Stiles’ mom, on the other hand, had been a completely different experience. She was the only alpha he’d ever gotten close to, besides a particularly awkward instance with Jackson Whittemore in sixth grade before the schools were required to keep the different classifications segregated, and where an omega hug made him relax into a pile of jellied limbs and contentment, the alpha’s embrace had him so filled with euphoria he’d been unable to form a coherent thought. Falling asleep in his mother’s arms had been his favorite thing to do after a manic day of playing and cuddling with his best friend.

It had been a long time since his mom had died, though, so long that he barely remembered more than a ghost of the all-consuming feeling of protection her touch had produced. He was left with more of a memory of complete peace, of knowing nothing could possibly harm him. It was different from an omega’s touch, maybe better, but he’d learned to live with what he could get.

Mark was a good cuddler. Some omegas weren’t, even if they had the same basic pheromones, they’d ruin it with awkward limbs or too-tight hugs. Mark was firm, but gentle, carding his fingers easily through the black tipped orange fur on Stiles’ back, carefully untangling errant twigs and burrs from his pale underbelly so Laura could wipe the mud and scents off of him with a practiced hand.

They stayed like that, in relative silence as the mated pair cleaned and calmed him enough for Stiles to consider shifting back to his human form. Mark seemed to pick up on it because his hands stilled on Stiles’ side and shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, “you know you’re safe here. You can turn back whenever you feel ready.”

Which was when two things happened.

Stiles changed into his human form, naked, of course, and Derek walked into the room with a steaming mug in his hand.

Shifting had always exhausted Stiles, especially since his mother had died and left him without a strong alpha to help him properly manage the energy expenditure, so he was unable to do what he would have prefered, which was to switch back into wolf form and bolt out the door. Instead, he was sprawled there, wrapped loosely in Mark’s arms, Laura crouched beside them. But just because he couldn’t shift, didn’t mean he couldn’t run. He tensed to make a break for it when Laura touched his back.

“ _Calm down_ ,” she said, and Stiles unwilling felt his body respond, falling limp against her mate. He was completely boneless and utterly unable to move.

“Laura,” Mark chided, gathering Stiles closer with a frown, “There’s no need to command the boy, he wasn’t going anywhere. Now you two need to stop glaring at each other and leave if you’re going to keep upsetting him. Derek, put the mug down. Laura, fetch a robe for Stiles. Derek can find him some clothes that will fit, in your father’s closet, I think. Talia won’t mind Stiles smelling like her mate, and maybe if he does the rest of you will stop being so irrational.”

 

The alphas sheepishly did as they were told and soon enough Stiles found himself ensconced in a pair of comfortable sweats in the living room of the Hale house, the mug of hot chocolate still warm against his palms.

Laura and Mark were wrapped around each other on the couch next to where he was curled up under a soft  - rabbit? - fur blanket. Derek paced across the room in front of the fireplace, looking wolflike despite his human form. It was jarring to be in the same room as an unmated and uncollared alpha. Every single PSA commercial and propaganda poster Stiles had ever seen depicted them as unstable animals who would eagerly claim any untended omega with a savageness that defied rational thought. While Derek did appear animal-like as he stalked from one corner of the large room to the other, he had only behaved logically since Stiles’ arrival. It was odd. In fact, the entire situation that brought him there was odd.

Stiles studied the cup in his hands, it was from a winery to the south, and tried to order his thoughts.

“Just tell us what happened as you remember it,” Laura prompted. She was one of the alphas employed by his father, though she was unable to become a deputy because of her classification. Stiles was pretty impressed with her questioning voice, it was soothing yet firm, just like when his dad questioned victims of crimes. And that wasn’t a fun dot to connect.

He breathed slowly and stared at the top ring of chocolate stuck to the inside of the cup. Derek was really good at making hot chocolate, Stiles would have to get the recipe from him. “I was on the bus with the other omegas, we’d just turned onto Old Redwood Trail from Lancaster Street. There was a blur to one side, on the,” he thought for a second, orienting the bus and where he has sat in relation to the road and the cardinal directions, “south side of the road, by my window. The bus braked sharply, it turned as it came to a stop, like the driver was trying to avoid something in the road.” Thinking of, he couldn’t remember what had happened to Mr. Finn, an old beta who had driven the omega bus since Stiles could remember. “The emergency lights came on and we put on our masks, then the doors were forced open, the outer one, then the inner one. A gas canister was thrown into the bus, it was green gas, some of the omegas started to panic and jump seats, but then there were these people in jumpsuits that came through the doors. They had a logo on the sleeve, a golden collar, so we thought they were the counsel’s alpha guard; they were even wearing collars.” He swallowed, remembered fear making his throat dry.

“You thought?” Laura prompted, scowling at her mate when he elbowed her ribs.

Mark made a soothing noise in his throat, “Take your time, Stiles.”

Stiles was absently aware that Derek had stopped pacing and was staring at him from beside the fireplace.

“Yeah, they had the uniforms and everything, but when I got to the door I noticed one of them had yellow eyes. He was a beta, and that freaked me out, so I took off my mask and shifted. I ran into the forest and I’m pretty sure I heard them shoot some tranquilizers, but none of them hit me. They must not have chased me very far because I didn’t hear anything after that.” He shrugged, “I just kept running and when I realized I was in your territory I called out for help.”

Stiles settled back and sipped his hot chocolate, feeling relieved and tired and generally done with dealing things for the day, but knew it was nowhere near over with, yet. He still had to tell his dad and probably Talia, and he didn’t even know what would happen after that. Would he go back to school the next day? Were the other omegas okay? Had Stiles just freaked out and overreacted? Would he get kicked out or punished for running away?

Laura sighed, “Well, this is complicated. Okay. First of all, good job, Stiles, what you did was very brave and must have been terrifying, but you followed your instincts and are safe because of it.” Stiles couldn’t help the thrill of pleasure that came from being praised by an alpha, the feeling temporarily overcoming his concerns. “Second, I need to talk to our mother and the sheriff, which means I have to leave you guys here. Derek,” the other alpha had resumed his pacing, but paused to look at his sister with a frown, “I need you to stay and protect them, just in case anything else happens.”

Derek grunted, but it sounded enough like an affirmative that Laura took it as such.

“Stiles,” her voice was talking-to-a-victim soft again, “I know you don’t know Derek very well, but he’s going to help you, so you have to trust him, okay?” He appreciated that she kept the command out of her voice, instead leaving it up to him to decide whether or not to trust the unmated, and uncollared, alpha.

His rational mind said hell no, but his instincts had him agreeing eagerly while trying to fling his body onto his back in order to expose all of his vulnerable bits to what looked like a very choice specimen of alpha masculinity. He decided to ignore all of the emotions and hormones warring with each other and nodded mutely. He’d deal with Derek the way he dealt with any normal problem, by ignoring it until it went away. Or, in this case, until Stiles was able to go away. Besides, Mark was there, and with a mated omega playing referee, Derek and Stiles would likely be able to conquer their respective biological urges for the time being.

He hoped.


	4. Chapter 4

The three found themselves in the, frankly monstrous, Hale kitchen, fixing breakfast for dinner. Derek kept to one side, setting the small breakfast table with delicate-looking dishes, while Stiles and Mark prepared the pancakes, bacon and eggs. Stiles had always enjoyed cooking, and had often found it relaxing after a long day of high school tedium, though he knew that was partially due to the omega imperative to care for others. He didn’t mind that, though, not like Scott who whined and bitched whenever it was his turn to cook. Melissa, his single mother nurse and a beta, was not impressed with his attitude.

The food was half-gone by the time Stiles finally felt comfortable enough to ask a question that had been in the back of his mind since he’d arrived at the Hale house.

“Where is everyone else? I thought there were more than a dozen of you. Not that you have to tell me,” he was hasty to add, Derek had a handle on glaring, though that could be mostly because of his impressive dark eyebrows, “I was just curious.” He said the last part into his pancakes and shoved a forkful into his mouth before it could get him into more trouble.

Mark put a comforting hand on Stiles’ arm, “You’re allowed to be curious, Stiles. Talia invited you into her home, which makes you an honorary part of the family.” That seemed to be directed at Derek, though Stiles wasn’t sure why. “To answer your question; Andrew, Derek’s father,” an omega, “and Peter, his uncle,” and an unmated alpha, “have taken the other omegas and the children to visit Andrew’s parents for a few weeks. Usually, Talia and their mates accompanies them, but there have been too many counsel changes for her to feel comfortable leaving town for long.

Changes to the law, Stiles knew from overhearing conversations his father had on the phone with someone, possibly Talia, he suddenly realized. His dad often praised the Hales as a hallmark of alpha and omega compatibility, an ideal of sorts that promoted the best aspects of every family member without anyone fearing their independence would be compromised or that they’d be treated unfairly, which Stiles found odd since his dad was a beta and Stiles had never felt discriminated against by him.

"Are all the Hale children alphas?" He'd heard a rumor to that effect. It sort of made sense biologically, but it was rare to have only alphas born to an alpha-omega pair who, depending on who was pregnant, should still have the ability to produce a child with any of the three classifications.

Beta pairs, on the other hand, could only produce more betas, which made for a greater number of them compared to the other types despite the slight increase in mortality rate due to complications during childbirth. An alpha-beta pair like Stiles' parents could theoretically produce any of the three, though it was extremely rare for them to have anything but a beta, the same with a beta-omega pair since betas were the dominant type genetically. Omega-omega pairings were things of legend, Stiles had never read anything to support claims it had ever actually happened outside of fiction. Omegas simply weren't wired to see each other as viable sexual partners, even if they alphas and betas saw them as the most desirable partners. Stiles had certainly never felt anything other than camaraderie for his classmates, perhaps excepting the effervescent Lydia Martin, who was certainly someone to worship, but not necessarily to mate with.

Surprisingly, it was Derek who answered, studying his half-eaten scrambled eggs with a frown. "My siblings and cousins are all alphas except for my youngest sister, Ava. She's six this month and an omega. We had a huge celebration when she was born."

That was nice to hear. Stiles knew that when Scott was born, his alpha dad had freaked out and tried to sell him to some underground omega traffickers. Stiles' dad, a deputy at the time, had stepped in before the bastard could get away with it and put his smarmy ass firmly in jail. The dick had gotten out when Scott and Stiles were seven, but by then everyone in town knew the story and had driven him out of Beacon Hills. Stiles' dad had helped Melissa file for divorce as soon as she could, ten years to the day of giving birth to Scott. That had been a memorable occasion, with more cake than even Scott and Stiles could stomach.

"That's nice," Stiles said, pushing the remnants of his pancakes through the tacky syrup on his plate.

Mark sighed audibly and stood, waving away Stiles' attempt to help clear the dishes. "No, no, you two go occupy yourselves in the living room while I clean up. Go on. Derek can tell you more about the family, if you’re curious.”

He was curious, neither he nor Scott had any siblings, so the Hale family had always been a bit of a legend to them, especially because of the way Stiles’ father talked had always about them. Derek led the way, every step taken with a rolling kind of grace Stiles knew he would never manage to imitate, but found it extremely nice to watch.

Stiles returned to his place on the couch, wrapping the fur around himself as he curled up. Instead of resuming his pacing by the crackling fireplace, Derek collapsed onto the leather chair across from him, broad hands splayed on his jeans.

“What do you want to know?” Derek asked, his tone conveying he couldn’t imagine what could possibly interest Stiles about his family.

Stiles smiled, “First of all, how many alphas and omegas are there? All the omegas, except for Ava of course, married into the family, right?”

“That’s right. There are seven adult alphas, all but Uncle Peter and I have omega mates. The alphas are my mother, Talia, her siblings Peter, Oscar, Conrad, and Eudora. You know my sister Laura.” Stiles nodded, he vaguely recognized the names and was able to match them with the alphas he’d just seen in the woods. “Their mates are my father, Andrew, Oscar’s wife Madeline, Conrad’s husband Michael, and Eudora’s wife Nancy. I have two younger siblings, Lance is twelve and Ava is almost six. Oscar and Maddie have one son, Nathan, he’s thirteen, Con and Mike have seven year old twins, Indrid and Agatha, and Eudora and Nancy have a son named Bartholomew who was born eight months ago.”

He couldn’t help but gape, “There are eighteen people in your family, living here in one house?” It was so radically different from his own two-person family, well, four since Scott and Melissa were included by default.

Derek frowned and looked up for a moment then focused back on Stiles again, “You’re right, there are eighteen of us, I guess I’d never bothered to count before. And we do all live here, but not all in the house. There are cottages out back for the pairs with children, to give them space and privacy. Only Peter, Mark, my siblings and I still live in the house with my parents, and Laura’s been working on felling trees for het own place the past few months, so she and Mark will move out soon.”

Stiles settled back against the couch to contemplate the new information. It seemed like being surrounded by so many people would be overwhelming, especially with all the children. He knew from his mandatory summer work at various childcare facilities that while he shared the standard omega predisposition to be a natural caregiver, he couldn’t keep track of more than two or three kids at a time without feeling like he was going to have a panic attack. At least there were probably other adults around the Hale house all the time, plus he figured it was probably easier to care for family members than strangers’ kids.

“What about you?” Derek asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Stiles shrugged one shoulder, “It’s just me and my dad, has been for years.” Everyone knew about the uprising and the murdered alphas, so he didn’t mention it was the cause of his single-parent situation. “Scott McCall’s been my best friend since we were little, he’s an omega, too. He’s kind of like a brother to me, and his mom Melissa’s really nice, she’s a beta and works as a nurse at the hospital.”

Derek’s brow furrowed, pulling his eyebrows into a v. “Aren’t you lonely? I know your father’s the sheriff, I see him in town a lot. He must work all the time.”

Stiles untucked one of his hands and used it to smooth the fur of the blanket, allowing the soft sensation to sooth him as he focused on the silky texture under his fingers. Omegas were especially sensitive to touch, and could use techniques like that to help regulate their emotions when they were feeling strongly about something. Over the years Stiles hadn’t often begged his dad to stay home from work, but each shameful instance was burned into his memory, reminding him of his sometimes-pathetic omega nature, of how he could overreact to things when he was feeling vulnerable.

Eventually, when he knew he could answer casually, he shrugged again. “My dad loves me and he’s doing the best he can, so I’m not complaining. I’ve always spent a lot of time with Scott, but lately he’s been seeing a new beta from school and one thing led to another and now he’s been banned from the omega bus because he’s ‘tainted’ by her beta pheromones,” Stiles said with a chuckle.

Derek rolled his eyes.

“I know, it’s stupid and hilarious, but he’s been really busy with Allison, lately. So, yeah, I guess it can get a bit lonely when you’re an only child, but that’s life.”

They sat in silence after that, listening to the faint noises Mark was making in the kitchen. Stiles let the warm softness of the blanket and the gentle crackling of the fire lull him into the kind of peaceful trance he usually found difficult to settle into among strangers. He blinked slowly when Mark padded into the room. Derek was leaning back in his chair, chin tucked, eyes lidded as they tracked Mark when he came over to share the couch.

Stiles shifted to let him under the blanket and sighed as he settled his head on the older man’s shoulder.

Mark wrapped his arm around Stiles and ran his hand over the teen’s short buzz cut. “Where do you fall on the spectrums?” he whispered against the top of Stiles’ head.

It was a typical omega to omega bonding question, one he’d asked and answered as many times as he’d casually discussed the weather with a casual acquaintance. Stiles wiggled until he was more comfortable, one ear pressed against Mark’s shoulder so he could hear the man’s heartbeat.

“My emotional sensitivity is generally low, unless I’m stressed about my dad, and then I can get so worked up I have panic attacks. It was worse when I was younger.” Mark tightened his embrace so Stiles was almost in his lap again. “I’m receptive,” most, but not all omegas were capable of carrying children, and it was something Stiles had known about himself since he was tested at puberty. “My fine motor dexterity is high, though my gross motor leaves something to be desired. I can be kinda clumsy when I’m not paying attention, which tends to happen a lot. Intellectually, I fall into the above average category and I do well academically, even if school is a load of crap, sometimes.” He could feel Mark’s shoulder shake as he chuckled. “I get distracted and a bit obsessive about some things, so I scored high on the hyperactivity scale, too. At school they tried to do a treatment plan using commands, but it’s hard for betas to influence me, so I just ended up getting in even more trouble than usual,” part of Scott’s predicament with Allison was due to his susceptibility to her natural beta pheromones, whereas Stiles had no such trouble, much to the chagrin of some of his more horrible beta teachers. “I’m highly sensitive to alpha control, though.” He thought it was due to his mother dying when he was so young and the omega in him yearning for the kind of comfort only she had given him.

Mark made a contemplative sound, letting his hand drop under the blanket to run soothing lines down Stiles’ spine. “It sounds like you’re quite a handful,” he joked, “but it’s very good to know. I’ll make sure the alphas are aware they’re not to accidentally influence you while you stay with us.” His voice was a little louder as he said the last part, but Stiles was too zoned out to wonder why. He hadn’t had a good cuddle session with another omega for weeks, not since Scott had fallen head over butt for Allison and her dimples and perfect flowing hair and amazing everything. It felt unbelievably nice to let go and sink into another omega’s warmth.

"When's your next heat?" Mark asked, his breath warm against Stiles' forehead.

Stiles rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the other omega's shirt. "Hm, next week-ish," he mumbled, barely awake.

He didn't hear a response and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

He awoke in a strange room surrounded by new scents, but familiar enough in their Hale-ness that he didn't immediately freak out. Stiles rubbed his eyes and frowned up at the white stars painstakingly painted on the dark blue ceiling. He spotted Arion the alpha chasing the constellation Emis, the fierce omega goddess. That had been one of his favorite stories as a child, but only if his mom stopped halfway through so he could make up his own ending. Instead of being forced to chase the omega for eternity, Stiles made up all kinds of tasks for both of them to complete in order to win each others’ hearts. In his version they both wanted to be together, like his parents, and lived happily ever after.

Stiles stretched lazily and rolled onto his side. It was a child's room, the walls were painted in a delightful forest scene, the bookshelves lined with storybooks and toys and enough stuffed animals to create the perfect nest for a little omega. Ava's room, then. There was no clock, not that he expected a six year old to be adept at telling the time, but the soft sunlight that shone through the gauze curtains spoke of it still being sometime in the early morning.

Focusing his senses, Stiles was able to make out several sets of footsteps descending the stairs down the hall from the room where he lay. He didn't recognize them as belonging to either Derek or Mark, so he stayed curled up with the rabbit fur blanket on the too-short bed that smelled like a sweet little omega girl he was suddenly eager to meet. She probably had her older siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins wrapped around her finger, he decided with a smirk.

Stiles drifted in and out of sleep for a while longer, until he heard a door open and close down the hall and a set of slippered feet approached his door. There was a soft knock and Stiles sat up with a yawn.

"Come in."

The door opened and he smelled Talia before she entered, her alpha scent strong in the small room. There were already layers of her in there, he realized with a smile, to comfort Ava even when her mother wasn't around. Stiles remembered his mom doing something similar when he was young.

"Good morning, I trust you slept well?" She was wearing a pair of comfortable-looking yoga pants and an athletic tank top.

Stiles nodded, carding his fingers through the fur of the blanket. "Yes, ma'am."

Talia grinned, all white teeth and laugh wrinkles around her eyes, "Oh, come now, there's no need for that kind of formality between us." She punctuated that by dropping cross-legged on the floor in front of him. "I hear you had a nice chat with my son last night, at least I hope it was nice. Derek comes across as a bit, hm, abrasive, sometimes."

He looked down at the blanket and shrugged. “We talked about your family and he asked about mine, then Mark finished with the dishes and the two of us cuddled and he asked about my spectrums.”

When he looked up, Talia’s eyebrows had risen, but she quickly schooled her features. “I believe Mark mentioned something about you being easily controlled by alphas, did he not?”

Stiles nodded, not meeting her eye. It wasn’t something to feel ashamed of, he knew, but he still considered it something of a character flaw.

“Then we’ll have to be careful not to unduly influence you, but you’re also going to have to keep any overt manipulations to yourself, as well. Some of us, Derek in particular, are quite sensitive to shifts in omegas' moods."

"Okay, that seems fair," Stiles said, "but how long do you expect me to stay here? Not that I'm complaining," he hastily added. “You’ve all been unbelievably accommodating. I’m sure babysitting a stray omega isn’t how you thought you’d be spending your time.”

Talia leaned back on her hands. "I spoke to your father and he agrees that you'd be safer here, where there is always someone to keep an eye out for you, rather than alone at your home." Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but she lifted a hand, "I know that's not what a teenaged boy wants to hear, believe me, but the omegas that were taken, your classmates, they haven't been recovered, yet, and we don’t know what the kidnappers want with them."

Stiles gaped, "What? What do you mean? Couldn't anyone track their scent? What about their cell phones? I know Maggie Evans has a phone with a GPS tracker built into it. How could they just disappear? There were twenty three of them!" He could feel his pulse rise as his breath caught in his throat. It had been almost half a day since they’d gone missing, they could be anywhere, their captors could be doing anything to them. The horrifying possibilities crashed into him like a riptide, images of his classmates bound and caged flashed through his mind until it felt like he was drowning in their terror.

"Stiles, you're starting to panic, do you want me to stop you?"

He shook his head, the only time an alpha had interrupted one of his panic attacks it had just made everything even worse. Of course stupid Jackson had been the one to cause it in the first place, the idiot, but it still wasn’t something Stiles wanted to repeat. For a second he thought she was going to force him to calm down, anyway, but then the door burst open and Talia froze, hand almost touching his arm.

"Get Mark," she snapped at Derek, who looked concerned and enraged, which wouldn't  have been possible without his impressive eyebrows.

He disappeared as Stiles vision began to tunnel, and the next thing he knew he was wrapped in Mark’s familiar omega scent, his strong arms tight around Stiles in a way that forced his body to acknowledge that he was safe and in control.

Stiles gasped a breath and felt a light-headed rush at the sudden burst of oxygen in his lungs. He was vaguely aware of a commotion outside the room, but Mark’s quiet humming against him, chest vibrating against Stiles’ back, cut through the chaos and worked like a drug to calm his racing heart.

The voices arguing in the hall belonged to Derek and Talia, Stiles realized, but Mark was exuding some premium pheromones, so he couldn't bring himself to care or listen all that closely.

“You want to talk about it?” Mark asked.

Stiles sighed and leaned his head back against the other omega’s shoulder. “A lot of my classmates are missing and probably terrified out of their minds. It seems wrong for me to be here, to be so safe when they’re in danger.”

“Or they’re curled up in a giant pile, so thick with each other’s scents they feel nothing but euphoria,” Mark suggested.

“Oh, well I didn’t think of that,” Stiles said, “Huh, I guess you’re probably right. It’s just. It sucks! All our lives, we were told that being an omega was special, that it was a privilege, that we were made to be protected,” at least that’s what the propaganda said, Stiles’ father had always treated him like an equal. “And here it's like we're suddenly back in the Dark Ages with assholes who kidnap omega for their own nefarious purposes. What are they going to do, create a shortage? Are they sabotaging the mating run three months early? At least we know they're probably not hurting them." Stiles let out a frustrated sigh. "It's stupid and barbaric."

Mark made a noise of agreement. The argument in the hall seemed to have ended and the door opened wide enough for Talia to stick her head inside.

"Breakfast is almost ready, why don't you two shower and dress, first. Stiles, we picked up some of your things last night, but you can keep wearing Andrew's clothes until we put a load of yours in the wash."

They did as they were told. Stiles used the master bathroom and felt incredibly awkward doing so. He hadn't ever used anyone's shower but his own, Scott's, and occasionally the omega communal showers at school. After washing his hair he made sure to twist the shampoo bottle so the label was facing the same way as before he'd used it, even though he didn't rationally think Talia and her mate would care. Still, he felt anxious and it was bizarre using someone else’s soaps when all his life he’d been taught that scent was one of the most important senses, the one tied closest to emotions and memory. The strange products made him feel like a stranger in his own body. He was starting to smell more like a Hale than a Stilinski.

Breakfast was just the two omegas. Stiles could smell the lingering fresh scent of the alphas, but none were around as they ate in silence. He was halfway through his French toast before Stiles' brain kicked in and he let his knife drop into the puddle of syrup.

"Were the other buses attacked? What does the counsel say about the attacks? What about the omegas who don't ride them, like Scott and the mated omegas? Oh my god, is Scott okay?" He couldn't believe it believe it had taken him so long to remember to ask about his best friend.

Mark dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin. "Scott's fine, Stiles, and so are all of the others. The counsel is meeting as we speak, so they haven't said anything, yet. You should finish your breakfast, Laura and I would like your help with a little project we're working on."

Stiles studied him, but he wasn't equipped with the alpha's ability to sense a lie, so he shrugged and did as he was told, figuring he could get more information out of the omega if he cooperated. "Derek told me about your plans to build," he said, licking syrupy powdered sugar from the tines of his fork.

Mark smiled gently, like he was remembering something good, "Did he, now? Not many people know about the Hale's customs, he must like you."

Stiles couldn't fight the blush that spread up from his chest to his cheeks, so he scowled. "It's not nice to tease the emotionally delicate omega," he informed Mark, who barked out a laugh.

"I think we both know you're not delicate, Stiles, but I can keep a secret as well as the next wolf."

They laughed and finished their breakfast smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

It turned out, the project involved a lot of very intricate sewing and not a little swearing on Stiles’ part.

“You know,” Stiles said, the needle sticking out of the corner of his mouth bobbing as he spoke through his clenched teeth, “when I told you I have great manual dexterity, I didn’t exactly think you’d be setting me up to work in a sweatshop.”

Mark snorted and kept working, his white stitches delicate and even on the pale green fabric. “Keep complaining and I won’t let you lick the bowl when we make cupcakes later.”

Stiles made a wounded noise, “You monster! See if I willing spend time helping you make - hey, what are we making, anyway? Curtains? Are these curtains? Wow, this really is nice fabric. Are you sure you want me to help you do this? I might make the hem crooked, or turn it into a cape or something.”

“You’re doing fine, Stiles. And yes, they’re curtains for the main room of our cottage.”

“I thought you said earlier that Laura was going to help us.” Stiles bit back a giggle at the mental image of an alpha bent over a plush throw pillow, resewing the loose tassled border, but then stopped when he realized he had been imagining Derek instead of Laura.

That was weird.

Right?

Mark shrugged, “She took the others out to the woods to start sorting wood for the construction, if I’m not mistaken they’re going to start on the framework today.”

“That’s awesome, you must be pretty happy about that.” But then Stiles glanced around the otherwise empty living room and frowned. “Wait, you said the others are all there, does that mean we’re the only ones home? Is that safe? You know, considering.” Considering that twenty three of his classmates had just been kidnapped in broad daylight by a group of highly organized and probably crazy betas with a proven history of murdering any alphas who stood in their way.

“There is always an omega at the Hale house,” Mark said, “Always. That’s why I’m here and not with the others at the lake where Andrew’s parents live. There doesn’t have to be alpha at home, but there’s usually one within earshot, running the perimeter or hunting. Don’t worry, Stiles, no one would be stupid enough to attack the Hales outright, even if that was something that happened in modern society. This isn’t a castle under siege and we’re certainly not damsels in distress.”

Stiles couldn’t keep in a laugh at the image, Mark’s good humor bringing out his own. “You have to admit we’d look pretty cute in dresses, though.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “I’m sure you’d look good with those narrow hips of yours, but I could never pull it off with my thighs.”

Talia found them a while later, tears running down their cheeks as they giggled about dresses and curtains. She took it all in with a magnanimous smile and inspected their work with an air of careful consideration.

“This is quite good, Stiles, look at how straight your stitches are, especially given how difficult it must be considering the delicate nature of the fabric. Mark, you’ve done a fine job, as always. I’m so proud to have you as a son-in-law, you’re a wonderful partner for Laura.”

Mark blushed at the compliment and ducked his head. Stiles grinned at the two of them and kept sewing. He felt the alpha’s praise like a physical warmth blooming in his chest; it reminded him of his childhood and the joy he’d always felt in his mother’s steady presence.

Talia ran a hand over Stiles’ short hair and Mark’s tousled curls. Scent marking the omegas in her pack, Stiles would have thought, but he wasn’t in her pack, he was just a guest.

Right?

Before he could follow that confusing train of thought, she left the room and Mark insisted they clean up so they could make the cupcakes he’d promised earlier. Stiles found that learning how to sew a straight hem and cook perfectly rounded cupcakes was actually fun when Mark was teaching him, as opposed to the tediously boring lessons he suffered through at school. Stiles thought it might have something to do with being taught by an endlessly patient omega instead of a short-tempered beta. Mark even had them practice different icing techniques until they’d mastered the round swirls, the grass effect, and some kind of flower design that looked like an exploding rose.

“So,” Stiles said around a mouthful of sugary deliciousness, “where did you learn all this stuff? I know we’re not doing cupcakes and drapes in class this semester. Wait, you can’t be much older than me, shouldn’t I remember you from school or something?”

Mark shrugged, eating his own cupcake with more decorum than Stiles had ever managed. “I’m not from Beacon Hills, I went to an omega school out east.”

“Wait, an omega school? Like one of those private boarding schools for unwanted omegas?” Stiles winced, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Those schools were the things of legend in Beacon Hills. Stiles couldn’t count the number of times he and the other omegas had been teased by asshole betas and even some insensitive alphas on the playground as children, threatening to make up excuses to get the lot of omegas shipped off to the infamous boarding schools where bad omegas went as punishment for their crimes. Scott and Stiles used to make up horror stories about those places during their sleep-overs, which ultimately led them to curl up with Stiles’ mother, too afraid to be alone with just each other and needing to feel her calming heartbeat to keep them from freaking out about the possibility of being severed from their pack.

Mark shrugged and began cleaning up the mess they’d made. “It wasn’t so bad being constantly surrounded by other omegas who needed to cuddle as much as I did. I learned a lot there, more than from a public school, I think. The Hales, Laura, bought me when I turned eighteen about two years ago. So you’re right, I’m not too much older than you.”

“Bought? You mean like at an auction?” Of course Stiles knew about omega auctions, everyone did, but knowing about it and knowing someone who’d been sold at one was entirely different. That was definitely not how the wolves in Beacon Hills normally found mates. The very thought of being sold like a piece of meat at the market was sickening.

Mark lifted his hands, palms out, “I know how it sounds, trust me, but I can’t imagine being anywhere else. The Hales scour the country looking for their mates, and when Laura found me we both just knew it was right. The auction was more of a formality, anyway. My parents leased me to the school when I was a kid and part of the agreement was that they’d get a cut of the profit from my sale. The thing is, I was such a good student that the headmaster let Laura have me for a pittance. He was just happy that I was happy. My parents ended up getting less than a hundred dollars from my sale, and now I’m here.”

Stiles frowned and absently licked frosting from his fingers. It certainly didn’t sound nearly as bad as his imagination had led him to believe, but it was still a stupid system. He shrugged and began running hot water over the sticky bowls. Mark joined him and they washed the dishes in companionable silence. Stiles was drying the cooling rack when he began to feel the familiar, overwhelming need to talk to the other omega. It had to do with the natural type-bond, he knew, not actual intimacy or close friendship, but the compulsion was there and he knew he couldn’t resist it for long.

“My dad said I don’t have to run at the solstice festival this year, if I don’t want to,” he confessed, feeling the internal pressure release like he’d opened a steam valve. “Since I’m seventeen I still have a choice.” He hadn’t even attended the ceremonies since his mother had been killed, but if he didn’t willing run at seventeen, he’d be forced to the next summer. It was rare for omegas to participate and not find a mate, so the decision as to whether or not he ran would likely be a decision to mate now or hold on to freedom for one more year. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about being claimed by just any alpha.

“I’ve heard of mating runs,” Mark said, “but that’s not how they did it where I’m from, obviously. Tell me about it?”

He didn’t really want to even think about it, but Stiles had brought it up and Mark had been endlessly kind to him, so he figured he owed it to him to explain things. “Okay, so the morning of the summer solstice, all of the unmated omegas who are of age, it’s mandatory if you're  eighteen and older, and optional for seventeen year olds, gather together at the village green. Mated alphas stand guard over them during the ceremony. The alphas have their collars on and the counsel makes them shift into wolf form.” Stiles swallowed, but continued in a rush, “After the ceremony, which is led by the head of the counsel, the omegas run into the preserve in either their human or wolf forms and a few hours later any eligible alphas are free to give chase. At least that’s how it worked when I was younger. I’m not sure if they’ve changed anything since them.”

Mark nodded, “That’s similar to the old traditions I read about in school, and some of the old legends I’ve read. Why do you think they’ve changed them?”

Stiles shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his own skin and with his memories, but he kept talking because of the subtle omega compulsion that neither of them could control and an urge to just say it to someone who hadn’t been there to see the carnage. “When I was nine a group of betas, we call them the hunters, attacked the alpha guards at the ceremony and killed all of them in cold blood. It was the first uprising on the west coast. My mom was one of the alphas killed.” He swallowed thickly, but continued, “Since then everything’s been different around here, and now betas run most things. They control the counsel and I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who attacked the bus yesterday, but it’s not like I have any proof or anything.”

Mark handed Stiles a damp cloth to wipe the counter with, making sure their hands brushed, then looked out the window with a frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER! 
> 
> Yeah, updates will start to slow down as I finish uploading the chapters I've already written...so that's a thing...


	7. Chapter 7

They both watched as Stiles’ leg knee bounced against the side of the couch.

“Would you like to go for a run? I remember you mentioned something about hyperactivity,” Mark nodded at Stiles’ twitching leg. "Nothing channels that much energy quite like a good romp through the forest with the wind in your fur and your tongue lolling from the exertion."

Stiles forced himself to sit still. “A run? Like in wolf form?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not, there’s plenty of land and the alphas will make sure you’re safe. There’s a good rabbit warren a little ways to the south, by the cluster of oak trees near the creek. Feel free to grab one for lunch if you get hungry.”

And that was a mental image, him in wolf form with a dead bunny crushed between his jaws, Stiles found both oddly appealing, if still kind of gross. He hadn’t ever caught and eaten anything by himself, though he had good memories of his mother bringing home a fresh kill on special occasions. The possibility of doing it himself was kind of intriguing. “Will you come with me?” Stiles asked. He hadn’t often run with other omegas since he was a kid, but whenever he and Scott managed it they had a lot of fun.

Mark shook his head with a soft smile, “Not today. I’m the omega in residence, remember? Perhaps once the others return from the lake I’ll run with you.”

Stiles wasn’t sure when that was supposed to happen, or if he’d even be there when it did, but he didn’t want to sully their good mood by asking. It might come across as if he was unthankful for the Hale’s help, so he kept quiet and followed Mark as he led the way through the house until they were in a small room off the kitchen.

The floor and walls were tiled, a bench ran along one side piled with towels and Stiles could smell the remnants of mud and wet fur. “You can put your clothes there,” Mark pointed at wooden hooks bolted onto the wall. “If you’re muddy when you finish running, either hose yourself off in the side yard or jump in the pond about a half mile to the west, then come through the door in whichever form you prefer and dry yourself. Leave your towel in the tub there and come in time for dinner, around sunset. Do you have any questions?”

Stiles shook his head. It all had the look of efficiency and years of practiced application. Whenever his mother had shifted, which wasn’t all that often, she’d stored her clothes in the tool shed out in their backyard. Stiles had accompanied her a handful of times, but his dad never let them go very far into the woods near their house. He said he was too worried about Stiles getting distracted and running off. Which was, honestly, kind of ridiculous since his mother was easily twice as fast as him, but Stiles never won that argument.

Mark turned to go back into the house when he paused and looked over his shoulder at Stiles with a strange kind of smile. “What type of wolf are you? You’re pretty big for an omega and I haven’t seen that fur color combination before; the rust, black, and white is interesting. Your coat looks pretty thick, too.”

Some of the other omegas at school hadn’t wanted to play with Stiles when they were little because his wolf form was so much bigger than theirs, and even a lot of the alphas assigned to help them with transitions, but Scott had never been worried about accidentally getting hurt by Stiles’ much larger bulk. Stiles had always found it weird that while he was admittedly a bit taller than the average omega in human form, his wolf outweighed everyone elses in his class. He smiled wryly and shrugged, it wasn’t the first time someone had asked, but at least Mark’s question wasn’t dripping with disgust, just an odd kind of curiosity. “I get it from my mom’s side, I’m classified as a _lupus lupus_. What about you?”

“I’m a _lupus pallipes_ , on my father’s side.”

A few other omegas Stiles knew were that type, smaller than the average _canis lupus_ with tawny fur and long limbs. They were fast runners and quite agile. Scott was a typical medium-sized  _lupus_ , though his coat was a lighter shade of gray than most. One of Stiles’ favorite pictures of the two of them was when they were in their wolf forms as kids, wrestling around in Scott’s backyard one hot summer day. Stiles had been almost twice as big as Scott back then, his black and orange accented coat contrasted with his friend’s pale fur as they rolled in the dirt, sharp teeth exposed as they grinned, their eyes a brilliant omega blue.

“And the Hales?” Stiles couldn’t keep himself from asking. Families normally all fell under the same classification, but with both an alpha and omega as parents, there was a possibility the children could be either of two different subspecies.

Mark smiled broadly, “Now that’s something you’re going to have to ask one of them. The answer might impress you.”

“But I’ve seen Laura,” he said. She was big, certainly, with thick black fur and a powerful gait. But he wasn’t nearly as adept at immediately recognizing the types as Scott, and Stiles couldn’t place Laura’s exact classification. He figured she wasn’t a _canis lupus_ , or any of the smaller subspecies, and she didn’t have a light belly like a _lupus lupus_. There weren’t many other choices that could produce her bulk and coloring, but for the life of him, Stiles couldn’t pinpoint what she could be.

“Just ask,” he repeated, his smile enigmatic.

Weird.

After Mark left Stiles shucked his borrowed clothes and hung them from a free hook. Two other wolves were shifted, he guessed from the clothes hanging beside his own. One male and one female, but neither belonged to Talia, Laura, or Derek. Process of elimination said it was Eudora and either Conrad or Oscar in wolf form. He absently wondered if they’d be willing to play with him, or if they’d be too aloof as mated adult alphas, or if they’d be afraid of hurting him.

With that thought, and a snort of laughter, he cleared his mind and allowed the wolf within to push to the surface. It was always there, an underlying current thrumming through his veins, always ready to emerge and take over his body and senses. It was a frightening kind of release, when he allowed himself to become the wolf; to feel the earth under his paws, every scent and sound magnified to a fascinating degree, to feel his eyesight heighten until he could make out the veins on each leaf of a tree.

Unfortunately, while his wolf form filled Stiles with a sense of power and majesty, it did not grant him the ability to open doors. He cocked his head to the side, contemplating the solid-looking outer door, but then he realized there was a slight breeze tickling his whispers. He nudged the bottom panel and was surprised when it moved with his nose. It was a large flap of plastic made to look exactly like the rest of the door. With a delighted woof he leapt through it and onto the porch, his hindquarters gathering power as he surged over the wooden slats and off into the woods.

Stiles wasn’t used to running alone. It was disconcerting, at first, not to have Scott or an alpha teacher racing at his flank, but soon he saw a white blur off to one side and he couldn’t keep his grin to himself. One of the alphas was pacing him, not actively engaging in play, but letting Stiles know he was being watched out for in the unfamiliar forest. It gave him the confidence to let loose.

Putting on a burst of speed, Stiles vered through a dense portion of the underbrush, leaping over and under downed trees and scattering squirrels as he went. Stiles skidded to a halt at the edge of a broad creek, chest heaving as he panted for breath. He stretched leisurely and trotted along the sandy shore, stopping to lap up some of the crisp water. He played at the edge of the creek for a while, watching the midday sun glint off the surface of the water and the various creatures hiding there. Off in the forest, the white wolf disappeared and a slightly bigger, darker wolf took its place in Stiles’ periphery.

Finally bored with the creek and pouncing on minnows in the shallows, Stiles loped up the slight incline toward the other wolf. He took a deep breath and recognized Oscar’s slightly lemongrass-y scent. As Stiles approached, Oscar held his ground, sitting on his haunches with a serene expression on his dark face. His fur was all black except for a slightly lighter grey mask around his alpha red eyes. If Stiles didn’t already feel the wolf’s calm attitude, he would probably look intimidating. As it was, when Stiles was close enough he stopped, braced himself, and shook off the little droplets of water that slicked the fur on his legs and belly, then ran off into the woods. He yelped with joy when Oscar immediately took off after him, barking with annoyance and a hint of amused exasperation.

They played chase for a while, Stiles easily dodging each of Oscar’s lazy attempts to get closer and snap at his black tinted orange tail. The two of them were pretty evenly matched speed-wise, though Stiles had twenty or thirty pounds on the alpha, but neither of them were really trying to win their impromptu game of chase, so it didn't really matter. The area they were in was unfamiliar to Stiles, on the other side of the Hale property from the road and the place where he’d encountered the alphas of the pack. It smelled stronger of their combined scents, along with the unmistakable essence of mated omegas.

Stiles stopped short of an open field, cocking his head when he heard the unmistakable sound of hammering. Oscar slowed beside him and continued into the low grass at a walk. He glanced over his shoulder, red eyes catching Stiles’ gaze before turning back toward the clearing in an invitation to join the alpha as he approached the noises of construction.

Stiles did so at a sedated pace, following behind and to one side of Oscar, lifting his muzzle to catalogue the new cocktail of scents. It was mostly an underlying mix that spoke of the Hale pack; warm and alive, each separate member combined to create the cacophonous medley that reminded him of hot summer nights and comfort and pack. In the back of his mind he acknowledged that it should be strange to think of the Hales as pack, since he’d only ever felt that close to his parents, Scott, and Melissa. He knew he’d have to give it more thought when he was in his human form, since as a wolf he cared too little about things like logic or common sense.

Stiles finally saw the source of the hammering as they approached the foundation of what was probably going to be Laura and Mark’s cottage. Oscar came to a shaded spot under a maple tree and collapsed in the dirt, eyes tracking the movements of the alphas in their human forms. Stiles sat beside him and took in the sight of Conrad and Derek, shirtless and sweating in the sun, heaving solid planks of wood from a flatbed truck and into a pile by where Laura and Talia were measuring and hammering pieces together. It looked like what Mark had told him, that they were beginning to construct the frame of the house, but Stiles didn’t really know anything about construction work other than what he'd picked up from half-remembered home improvement shows he’d had to watch for school.

The alphas glanced up when he plopped down by Oscar, head on his paws, but they didn’t seem to be put off by his interruption. They worked quickly and efficiently together, occasionally giving instructions or advice, but were otherwise quiet while they accomplished their tasks. Once all the wood was off the truck, Conrad hopped in the cab and drove it away while Derek began separating the pieces into piles by size. Stiles lifted his head at that, watching the alpha’s economical movements as he sorted the wood. It looked easy enough, even for a wolf.

Stiles lifted his butt to stretch his forelegs, then his hind legs, yawning hugely. It was funny to see the chain reaction as all the alphas followed suit and yawned, too. Stiles knew that, the moods of an omega could easily influence nearby alphas, particularly if they were part of the same pack, but he’d never had much of an opportunity to witness it in action. Not that contagious yawning was evidence of that, but still, it was something he knew he'd have to talk to Mark about.

He checked Oscar for signs he shouldn’t approach the construction, but the alpha just lifted a hind leg and scratched at a patch of dark gray fur behind his ear with another yawn, so Stiles took it as permission to move closer. He skirted the females and went to the pile where Derek was gathering another beam under one arm.

The alpha stopped when Stiles approached, carefully setting down the wood and wiping his hands on his jeans, clearly waiting to see what the omega would do. He seemed curious, his hazel eyes scanned Stiles’ long body with an assessing air, similar to how Talia had looked at the stitches he’d made earlier that morning. As far as Stiles knew it was the first time he’d seen Stiles’ wolf form when the omega wasn’t nearly out of his mind with terror, and from what Stiles could tell, Derek seemed to approve of his uncommonly large stature and unusual coloring. His bulk certainly made it easier for him to perform manual labor.

Stiles picked up one of the bigger pieces I of wood, careful not to gouge it with his teeth and dragged it over to the corresponding pile of like-sized planks. Derek stared at him for a long moment before huffing out a breath, the barest hint of a smile on his lips, and continued with his task, mindful of Stiles as they worked together to sort the pieces.

As they worked together, the citrus smell of Talia and Laura’s amusement wafted over once before the late spring breeze whisked it away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More wolfy-times!
> 
> I'm not a wolf expert (shocker, I know), but if you want to know more about what different subspecies look like I'd suggest a basic google search or bouncing around wikipedia. The wolf subspecies have nothing to do with region of origin in this story, but they are somewhat genetic. I say somewhat because if two different wolves have kids they are either one type or the other, not a mix of both.


	8. Chapter 8

Honestly, Stiles had a love/hate kind of deal going on with his wolf form. Everything was more simple as a wolf, sure, but that also meant there wasn’t a lot of rational thought going on between his ridiculously fuzzy ears. Most of what happened went along the lines of:

See a rabbit? Chase it and maybe, if he was incredibly lucky, eat it.

Smell something weird? Figure out where it came from then eat and/or roll in it.

Your mother dies in a horribly bloody massacre right in front of you? Change into your wolf form to keep from crying in front of your equally despondent dad, who, as a beta, didn't have the luxury of turning into a full wolf. Besides, howling seemed like such a better way to express anguish than a handkerchief full of angry tears and snot, or curling up in a ball having a panic attack on the bathroom floor.

At least in Stiles’ experience.

And the wolf wasn’t a complete picture of who Stiles was; he wasn’t just a mindless beast who followed his instincts and pounced on minnows in the Hale’s creek or ate raw rabbits because he was hungry and outside without opposable thumbs. He valued his own ability to analyze, to question and to wonder, the things that made him unique and, well, Stiles.

As a wolf, most of his mind was occupied with cataloguing scents and sounds, on following the shadows glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, on survival and near constant movement. Not that Stiles was particularly still in his human form, but he at least was more focused on what was going on in his head than as a wolf avidly watching a leaf’s descent from the top branch of a fifty foot tall oak. Despite the sensory overload, it was kind of peaceful, sometimes. But it wasn’t enough.

This time, turning back into his human form after a vigorous run as a wolf felt like having a good stretch after a restful nap. He felt refreshed and better able to think with a kind of focused clarity he often lacked because of his natural inability to keep to one task for long. It was different from the previous day's post-shift exhaustion and he idly wondered why. Stiles hummed under his breath as be hosed the mud off his arms and legs, shivering as the cold water sloshed bits of forest debris from his skin, then walked loosely to the back door, thoughts drawn to the Hales and their easy camaraderie, which seemed to go against what he knew of alpha dynamics.

Some of what he’d been taught about the different classifications in school was obvious bullshit. Like that alphas were all so close to their wolves that the unbonded ones needed the control collars to keep them from attacking any unmated omega in sight. Clearly Derek hadn’t gotten that memo, since he’d mostly kept his distance, or at least respected Stiles enough not to try sniffing his butt or whatever it was his inner wolf wanted to do.

Claim him, maybe?

Whatever, Derek certainly hadn’t done anything that could remotely be considered inappropriate, not even when he was alone with Stiles. That by itself made him question just who was behind the propaganda posters pasted all over every public building in Beacon Hills. If uncollared alphas really weren’t as dangerous as was claimed, what did that say about the other slogans? Stiles certainly didn’t feel the need to be protected from Derek. Maybe the _Mated Betas_ had something to do with it?

Also, from what he saw, the alphas of the Hale pack didn’t seem “closer to their wolf” than anyone else Stiles knew. Honestly, some of his beta teachers were known to growl and flash their yellow eyes with a lot more frequency than what he’d observed over the past day with the Hale pack. No one had bullied him or demanded he show his throat, apparently classic alpha behaviors that weren’t quite as universal as he’d been taught. The more he thought about the goings on in Beacon Hills, the less it made sense. He was slightly mollified by the fact that his dad was a good sheriff and stand up consultant to the council, though Stiles couldn’t vouch for the rest of the betas who ran the town.

As he dried himself off with one of the towels that smelled like detergent and the underlying warmth of the Hale pack, he had a sudden, arresting thought. While not always in the same place physically, it was rare for the two Stilinskis to go more than a few hours without communicating in some way, usually through phone calls or by e-mail. Stiles felt a chill when he remembered he hadn’t talked to his dad since the morning of the attack, when he’d walked out the door to catch the school bus.

Stiles’ parting remark had been something about not going to the diner for lunch when the sheriff had a perfectly good grilled chicken wrap in the lunchbox that Stiles had packed for him. They hadn’t even talked during school, mostly because Stiles had spent his free period in an impromptu detention for trying to sneak out, or afterward because of the subsequent mess with the fake alphas and the Hales’ timely rescue. Stiles tossed the towel into the tub and dragged on the borrowed clothing, his skin buzzing uneasily with the implications. He didn’t want to believe the Hales had any ulterior motives, but the dynamics posters had a lot to say about the possessive relationship between alphas and unclaimed omegas.

Stiles valiantly tried to swallow his fear, but it was hard when his limbs were post-shift heavy and the rabbit he’d eaten seemed to have turned into a ball of lead in his stomach. He knew he had to dig deeper to figure out the truth before his imagination got away from him.

He found Mark in the kitchen, prepping what looked to be an elaborate and delicious dinner of venison and vegetable stew. There were over a dozen yeast rolls rising on baking sheets beside him on the counter. Stiles returned his warm smile as best he could and leaned casually against the island, idly rolling an orange between his palms to keep the other omega from seeing how much his hands shook.

“Hey, I wanted to check in with my dad, let him know I finally managed to catch a rabbit. He’s always been on me about learning to hunt in my wolf form, but I’ve never done so well with the whole stalking-hunting thing. I usually get distracted and lose track of whatever it is I’m chasing, big surprise, I know.” He gave a self-deprecating smile, “He’ll be stoked to hear I finally lived up to my wolfy heritage. Also, I gotta make sure he’s been eating the leftover zucchini bake instead of take-out. I slaved over that thing and it actually turned out pretty good. I know it’s not just a beta thing, but if I didn’t keep the fridge stocked he’d probably live on fast food.” Stiles gave a short laugh as if to say, _what would they do without us?_ “So, where’s a phone I can borrow?”

The other omega made a noise to acknowledge Stiles’ rambling, but kept cutting up sprigs of fresh herbs to add to the already delicious-smelling stew. “I’m sure he knows you’re fine Stiles, Talia told you she’s keeping him updated, didn’t she? There’s no need to worry so much about him. He is the sheriff, isn’t he?” The look Mark gave him was calm, yet firm, very clearly eliminating any possibility of broaching the subject further without raising his suspicions.

Stiles forced himself to shrug dismissively. “I’m sure you’re right. Hey, I’m going to the bathroom, which one should I use?” He was already edging out of the room, making sure to keep his voice level and his heart rate calm like he’d been taught in school. _Omegas are the emotional center of a home_ , his instructors had endlessly droned, claiming that if an omega became agitated it was extremely easy for them to affect the moods of others. Like how his near panic attack had set two alphas against each other that morning. While controlling a room like that probably had it’s benefits at times, it also made omegas incredibly easy to read.

Having a sheriff as a dad had actually helped him learn how to hide his emotions from others, not because he’d been afraid to show his dad how he was feeling, but because the sheriff had wanted Stiles to be able to keep control even when he was in a stressful situation. Not that he’d demonstrated that kind of ability the previous day, or even that morning, embarrassingly enough. Stiles was definitely a work in progress.

Mark paused and half-turned to consider him for a moment, then grinned broadly. “You were a wolf for half the day and you didn’t think to go in the woods?”

Stiles’ sheepish smile was genuine, he really hadn’t even thought about it. “No, no I didn’t. I’m kinda new to the whole _being in wolf form for hours_ thing. Recently, I’ve pretty much just shifted when I had to for class.” Mostly because his first reaction to his mom’s death had been to turn into a wolf and it had taken Dr. Deaton days to coax him back into his human form since the alpha had been unwilling to use a commanding voice on such an emotionally fragile omega. Since then shifting hadn’t held all that much appeal, not when it reminded him so much of his mother’s last moments and what she must have felt, being stuck as wolf when the betas tore her throat out. Besides, Stiles valued his ability to reason far more than he cared about chasing woodland creatures or pissing a circle around his territory. Even if life seemed a lot more simple on four legs than on two.

Mark turned back to his food preparation, “You know you can can crap in the woods, here; no one is going to think it’s weird. Well, except you, apparently.” Stiles would have liked Mark’s teasing more if there hadn’t been just an edge of something else to it; a subtle tension in his posture, the too-tight grip he had on the knife, like he was picking up on the worry vibrating under Stiles’ skin. “Why don’t you use Derek’s bathroom? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Stiles minded, he didn’t say, but gave a jaunty wave instead of arguing and walked calmly out of the room. When the sound of cutting resumed, Stiles lifted his head and tried to find the familiar smell of hot plastic and electronics. His sense of smell was not nearly as refined as when he was in wolf form, or even as an alpha’s in human form, but he could still track familiar objects if he focused. Stiles didn’t dare search any of the doors along the hallway, offices, maybe? If that were the case they’d almost certainly have phones and probably computers, but there was no reason for Stiles to be in the rooms and it wasn’t as if he could sneak in and out undetected by a family of alphas.

When he got to the living room he made quick work of searching it, but couldn’t even find a trace of scent belonging to either a house phone or cellphone. Frustrated, he took the stairs two at a time and hesitated only an instant before heading toward Derek’s room, thinking that surely a twenty-something-year-old would have his own phone. Plus, Stiles had been specifically invited into his room, so a fresh trail of his scent wouldn’t be amiss if he searched without touching anything.

What Stiles found upon entering the room was not at all what he was expecting. Since Derek had grown up in the Hale house he thought he’d see at least some childhood memorabilia tacked to the walls, an old baseball mitt half hidden under the bed, but the space was downright spartan. There was a low queen sized bed centered under a large window, two sleek nightstands with wrought iron lamps on top flanking it and a long dresser along one wall. All the furniture was dark wood, the drapes and blankets done in textured gray silk. Overall it was aesthetically pleasing, but so empty of personality Stiles had to take a deep breath of Derek’s concentrated scent to reassure himself it was actually the alpha’s room.

He bent low to look along the, strangely enough, dark purple walls, but couldn’t see anything other than the lamps plugged into the outlets. Stiles breathed in again, filtering out the heady scent permeating the room and focused on locating something he could use to communicate with the outside world. He was drawn to one of the doors, the closet, and hesitated with his hand hovering over the knob, briefly considering whether or not to open it, knowing that when Derek came into his room he would instantly know exactly where Stiles had stood and what he had touched.

The rational part of him said to just leave it and go to the bathroom like he was supposed to, but the nagging paranoia in the back of his mind wouldn’t be so easily silenced, not even under the threat of punishment for trespassing where he probably wasn’t wanted. Doors were closed for a reason, in Stiles’ experience. But the thing was, he knew he had to solve his own problem and if he wanted to hear his father’s voice or at least get out a message letting him know what was going on, he’d have to figure out a way to do it himself or remain at the mercy of the den of alpha. Stiles steeled himself, pressed his hand over the cold metal of the door knob and twisted.

He was immediately struck by the obscene amount of room in the closet. All of the personality missing from the bedroom seemed to be packed into a space easily half the size of Stiles’ bedroom back home. The walls, where he could see them between gaps in the hanging clothes, were covered in layers of posters and pictures likely dating back to when Derek was a cub. The shelves on one side were burdened with boxes and books to the point that Stiles didn’t dare touch any of it for fear the bowed wood would finally crack and come crashing down. After a solid minute of staring in wonder at the organized chaos, Stiles jerked into action, quickly locating both a cellphone and a laptop.

He tried the phone first, but it was locked and Stiles knew there was no way he could figure out the six digit combination just based on the little he knew of Derek. He thought it might be Ava’s birthday, but he didn’t know exactly when that was, so he didn’t bother trying. As for the laptop, thankfully it wasn’t password protected, but it was over an inch and a half thick and easily five years old. Stiles stifled a groan as it booted up with watching-paint-dry slowness. He barely managed to keep himself from tapping his foot with impatience as the loading bar inched toward completion. Finally, the main screen popped up and Stiles had to bite his tongue as he took in the chaos of icons haphazardly scattered over the standard background picture. He made a mental note to teach Derek about the fine art of sorting things into files as he quickly clicked on the the only internet icon available.

It was almost as slow as dial-up. The utter tragedy of it made Stiles stifle a pained groan of mental anguish. He was not in any way soothed when he saw that Derek’s homepage was an utterly boring standard hack news website that had sport’s scores on one side and current events articles cycling across the other. Still in the middle of lamenting the alpha’s utter lack of technological savvy, Stiles’ breath caught as the main picture changed from something political to an image of his school bus, abandoned in the street with the doors still open. The headline read “California attack leaves 24 unbonded omegas confirmed missing - Alpha Separatists suspected.” His vision swam for a moment before he steeled himself and typed his e-mail client into the address bar. After timing out twice, he resigned himself to the reality that that method of communication simply wasn’t going to work, not with such an ancient machine and poor internet connection. Stiles knew he had to resort to more drastic measures if he wanted to get a message to his dad.

He closed down the laptop and left it on the pile of dark jeans where he’d used it. There wasn’t any point in trying to conceal his tracks, not with his scent thick where it shouldn’t have been. With a deepening sense of foreboding he left the closet and used Derek’s bathroom like Mark had directed, barely noting the tidy row of products designed to be inoffensive to both alphas and omegas as he washed his hands. The words from the headline danced in front of his eyes, _24 omegas confirmed missing_ , but there had only been twenty four of them, total. Scott hadn’t been allowed to ride the bus anymore and Stiles had escaped. They should have only confirmed twenty three of them as missing, unless his absence was counted among those kidnapped, in which case his father really _didn’t_ know the Hales had him and was probably worried sick.

Stiles gripped the edges of the sink, squeezing his eyes shut until electric stars burst in the darkness. His father would be frantic with worry; not eating, not sleeping, not taking care of himself without Stiles to do it for him. He’d done the same thing right after Stiles’ mom had been killed, when Stiles had refused to shift back to his human form. His breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to breath through the mounting panic. He had to come up with a plan.

The Hales were at a clear advantage; they were alphas, they outnumbered him and could easily overpower his ability to reason with just one spoken command, but he wasn’t without his own defenses as long as he let his temper rage and there was a clear path for him to run away. If he shifted to his wolf form he could probably overpower one or two of them and maybe outrun the rest. It was a big _if_ , though, since he’d changed so recently and never really practiced sparring with other wolves. Stiles took a fortifying breath, and looked at himself in the mirror. If the Hales refused to explain what was actually going on he’d make a break for it.

Outside it was, then.

He really should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty internal monologue heavy...but it's Stiles' brain, so who's complaining, right?
> 
> Yesterday I figured out where the story's going, but I seems like kind of a heavy ride, so I tried to brainstorm other ways it can progress and the narrative is seriously having none of it. So. Guess we'll all see what happens, together!
> 
> Thank you for all of the lovely comments!


	9. Chapter 9

As Stiles stood on the lawn in front of the house facing the alphas standing, a tightness gripped his chest. It wasn’t the familiar beginning of a panic attack, it was somehow hot and dense and made his sides quiver with a repressed need to, to do something. Stiles wasn’t even certain what that something was.

Just.

He took a deep breath and when he released it through his clenched teeth a bone-rattling growl ripped from his throat. That was it, that was what he needed to do. Stiles took another breath, deeper this time, reveling in the iron hard feel of his ribcage expanding to it’s limit. When he breathed out that time, the growl took on a wet edge and he realized he was slavering, his human teeth bared at the alphas across from him as he released the feral noise.

Everything took on a sharper edge as his eyes shifted to their brilliant cerulean blue.  Wolf eyes. That was normally harder for him to change than his full shift, but with the anger roiling inside it was suddenly as easy as breathing. As growling. The alphas began to fan out, to cut off his paths of escape near the sides of the house, but his savage warning growl stopped them short.

Talia held up her hands, no claws, and took a measured step toward him. “Stiles, I don’t know what’s happened to make you so upset, but you have to calm down before we react to your anger and something bad happens. No one is in danger, here, no even you. All of us are already on edge, we don’t need your temper to unbalance things even more.”

Stiles couldn’t help his snort of derision. “Something bad?” He asked, incredulous, his throat hot with anger. “Like what? Like being attacked by the hunters that slaughtered my mother in cold blood and then kidnapped and held captive by a family of strange alphas without being able to speak to my father about any of it? Because it seems to me that’s already happened.”

The alphas stiffened, but no one attempted to refute his accusation.

“Your father has agreed,” Talia began, but Stiles barked a laugh and she fell silent with a frown.

“I don’t believe you’ve spoken to my father anymore than I believe it was Alpha Separatists who kidnapped my classmates.”

Talia nodded, as if finally understanding how all the pieces to the puzzle fit, “So you’ve read the newspaper.”

“Something like that.” Stiles watched as the other alphas shifted behind Talia, tracking him with narrowed eyes. At least they weren’t red, yet. Though Oscar had a hand gripping Eudora’s bare arm, as if to keep the smaller alpha from either attacking or flanking Stiles. They were both still naked from the shift, but Stiles found that alphas and omegas typically didn’t get weird about nudity like a lot of betas. His dad hadn’t ever been entirely comfortable with it, either, which was why Stiles and his mom had shifted behind the house, where no one could see when they went for runs together. The Hales seemed to fall more in line with what Stiles expected, in that regard. As it was, those two would be able to shift the quickest if Stiles tried to run for it.

Talia continued, ignoring the others, “Then you know your disappearance has been included with the others. It was the only way to ensure your safety given the unusual circumstances of the attack. Your father and I thought it prudent for the press, and the council, to think you were missing with the rest of your classmates, to keep you out of the limelight while we work on locating them.”

“Prudent? For everyone, including my emotionally sensitive omega best friend and packmate, to think I’ve been kidnapped by crazy people? Really?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his smooth voice was oddly soft as he stepped up to his mother’s side, hands spread against his thighs to show rounded nails instead of claws. It was one of the less obnoxious omega pacification techniques alphas employed. “We would _never_ do anything to harm you.” It may have been the low light, but for some reason Derek looked vaguely sick, as if the thought alone turned his stomach, but Stiles knew that couldn’t be right. It was just bullshit alpha posturing, like the rest of it, trying to appeal to his omega emotions. Another alpha technique.

He scoffed. “Okay, yeah, you all have been unbelievably accommodating to me, but I mean exactly that. What you’re doing is _unbelievable_. I don’t _believe_ you’re doing this just out of the goodness of your hearts. I’ve read the books they don’t keep in the school library, the ones about the _true role_ of an omega in the eyes of alphas, how thing were _supposed_ to be until the betas began interfering with the classic pack structures.

“I know about the history of the relationship between the dynamics, and how omegas have always been considered nothing more than prizes the be won or taken. I’ve read the things they don’t tell us for fear of scaring us or shattering our delicate omega psyches. I know what I am, what those betas clearly thought of me and my unmated classmates when they came and stole us. We’re just things to be taken, to them, and maybe even to you. Clearly we’re objects to be controlled, which is probably what the hunters are doing in one form or another and why _shouldn’t_ you do the same? You’re alphas. I’m an unmated, unprotected omega from a tiny, alpha-less pack. I can connect the dots as easily as the next wolf.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak again, likely to protest Stiles gathered from the sharp v of his drawn down eyebrows, but Laura beat him to it, eyes narrowed. “You don’t honestly believe we’ve kidnapped you, do you?”

That was exactly what Stiles thought. He cocked his head slightly in a wolfish gesture as if to say _yeah, yeah I really do_.

Laura barked out a rude laugh and muttered _unbelievable_ under her breath. Eudora rolled her eyes and shook her head at Conrad, who wasn’t even paying attention to her. His sharp gaze was trained on Stiles, top lip curled slightly to show bone white teeth just a hint too sharp to be entirely human. It was classic alpha posturing, and might work on betas, but Stiles let his own lip curl in response, refusing to be cowed.

Talia turned to gauge the reaction of her siblings, ignoring Eudora’s obvious exasperation as she shook her arm free from her brother’s grip, scowling at Conrad’s expression and nodding to Oscar when he shrugged at her with a sigh. He seemed the least affected by the situation, taking it all in with a patient calmness, much like how he’d behaved in wolf form. When Talia looked at her children, Laura shook her head with a smirk and Derek shifted his weight from one foot to the other, refusing to look away from Stiles. For an instant it had looked like his expression had changed and he appeared strangely hurt, but then his face smoothed back into something akin to frustration.

Focusing back to Stiles, Talia looked him over slowly, silently assessing his aggressive stance and likely mullish expression. He had a lot of practice butting heads with Dr. Deaton and his often idiotic instructions, so he at least knew how to act like an asshole to alphas. She glanced quickly back at the others again before she turned to address him.

“Your honesty is,” she paused for a beat, “commendable, given the circumstances of the past day.” _Commendable_ didn’t sound like her first choice in wording, more like the most complimentary thing she could come up with at the moment. “You’ve been under a lot of stress without having access to your normal support structures or packmates, so we understand how all of this might upset you, but you know as well as I do that talking about your concerns is the best way to find out the answers to your questions. Resorting to intimidation,” Eudora snorted, but Talia ignored the interruption, “and threats are no way to win an argument, as I’m sure you know.”

The thing was, he did. He knew better.

It felt like the words delivered a physical blow to his gut. It sounded exactly like something his mother would have said to him when he was being a brat and refused to listen to reason. Stiles had never really been a reactionary person. He normally valued his rationality too much to lose his temper, and felt his face flush with shame when he realized how unhinged he’d acted, growling instead of speaking, posturing like a wolf instead of calmly analyzing and discussing his concerns. Her candidness seemed to help relieve some of the tension mounting between all of them and he released a thready breath along with his lingering aggression. Stiles was suddenly tired; sick of the whole stupid mess and the fears cluttering his mind and destroying his ability to see reason amid the chaos.

His eyes flicked back to their normal honey brown, all of the colors of the forest became less distinct, the edges washed out in the darkening twilight, throwing thick shadows across the alphas. “Why are you really keeping me here?” Stiles asked quietly, “What could you possibly gain from helping me? Am I bait? Collateral? Are you going to use me as a bargaining chip with the council?” He wouldn’t put it past them. Alpha rights, even for those with mates, had diminished ever since betas had taken over all of the positions of authority in Beacon Hills. Holding the beta sheriff’s omega kid hostage could be just what they needed to have their voices heard.

Talia stepped closer, but not threateningly so, Derek close at her side. The other alphas took the opportunity to spread out behind her, boxing him in without pressing too much. Stiles knew his window for escape had closed, but he still wanted answers. He fixed the head alpha with a level look, irritated that even after her claim of openness, she was still as cryptic as ever. It reminded him of Dr. Deaton during their annoying monthly appointments.

He huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Obviously I’m not going anywhere, now, so why don’t you give your big super villain monologue and then you can throw me into a heat room or wherever it is you keep kidnapped omegas who misbehave.”

He was pushing his luck, he knew even without a warning growls from Conrad and then Derek, but Talia silenced the alphas with a flash of red eyes, then looked back at Stiles with an unreadable expression. He caught a familiar scent and frowned in confusion. Surely she wasn’t amused by what was happening.

Right?

“If you’re finished throwing your tantrum, we should head inside and I’ll explain what’s really going on. It’s going to rain, soon, and I don’t relish doing even more loads of laundry. Plus, we don’t need the house to smell like wet dog.”

Only Oscar chuckled at her joke, but the other alphas turned away from them and began walking around to the back of the house, clearly dismissing the threat of Stiles making a break for it. Derek paused and looked over his shoulder when he got to the corner, but Laura grabbed his arm in a tight grip, and dragged him a few steps until he followed willingly.

“Stiles?” Talia said, dark eyebrow raised as she lifted a hand to indicate the front door behind him.

He frowned, but preceded her into the Hale house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura's pretty sassy, which is my favorite personality trait. I think she gets it from Peter.
> 
> So. Another chapter done! I have a few more written, but I usually write them quickly, then go back and re-read/edit/add after that to make sure I'm including salient plot points and keeping the tone the same-ish. Next up we have some Talia and Stiles time! I'll either upload it tonight or tomorrow, depending on if it's polished enough.
> 
> As always, your comments both here and on tumblr are greatly appreciated, I can't believe how kind you've all been!


	10. Chapter 10

Talia led him to the living room, but didn’t move to sit. Instead, she gestured to the couch, "Please take your blanket and follow me, we have some things to discuss in private.”

Stiles did as he was told, beginning to feel a flush of mortification at having so blatantly challenged a group of alphas in their own territory. A part of him demanded he stay angry, that he was right and the Hales were exploiting their alpha-ness to control him, even without any of them having issued a true command. The potency of his previous rage came from them intentionally keeping him from his even contacting his father, but whether it was his omega nature, or the manners his parents had tried to drill into him from childhood, Stiles followed Talia’s instructions without complaint or commentary. Looking back at the confrontation with slightly more objective eyes than before, he was surprised they hadn’t attacked him, or at least forced him to submit after his spectacularly stupid show of arrogance.

With a meekness born of embarrassment, he squeezed the plush rabbit fur to his chest and followed Talia down the hallway toward the kitchen, feeling an unexpected burst of warmth at the thought of her labeling it _his_ blanket instead of _the_ blanket. It was a stupid thing to feel comforted by, but he was riding an increasingly uncomfortable wave of shame, so he took what he could get.

They stopped at one of the doors along the hall and she ushered him inside. As he suspected, it turned out to be an office, hers from the thick traces of her scent permeating the room, though there was another wolf’s lingering essence, as well. Andrew’s, he suspected from the faint snatches he’d smelled on the borrowed clothes and various areas of the house.

The walls were composed of dark wooden bookcases burdened with leather-bound volumes. Besides the harmonious mixture of Talia and Andrew’s complementary scents, the room smelled overwhelmingly like the archives in the town library before they’d burned; of vellum and old ink, binding glue and just a hint of decay. Stiles felt his heart beat faster in recognition. He was instantly enchanted by it all.

“This is amazing,” he found himself saying, fingers ghosting an inch away from the nearest spines. The titles spoke of myth and legend, history and botany, curses and cures. He recognized a few from school lectures, but a lot of them were in untranslated Latin. He vaguely thought that Lydia would kill to get her hands on those.

He could barely make out Talia’s living scent over the heady aroma of the books, but when he noticed the sharp citrus burst of amusement he turned to her, confused. She was smiling at him, her earlier sternness apparently vanquished by good humor.

“I take it you like our little collection?” She hazarded, hazel eyes impossibly gentle.

Stiles flushed and turned back to hide his expression, “Yeah, I really do, though I’m not sure I’d call it _little_. This has to be more old books than anywhere else in town, since the fire. My mom used to work there, before.” She hadn’t been able to take a position as a librarian because of her classification, which was bullshit, in his opinion. She’d loved books more than anyone Stiles knew, even including himself. “I spent a lot of time in the stacks and in the old archives, listening to my mom tell stories and eventually reading whatever I could get my hands on, even the dynamically incorrect books. We’d spend hours there while my dad was at work. Sometimes we’d even crash on the couches in the break room, if we didn’t feel like going home to an empty house when he had to work a double. It was fun, I have a lot of good memories associated with these smells.” Memories of his mother were bittersweet, but something about that scent only brought out the comfort and overwhelming feeling of safety he associated with her.

Talia was quiet and when he turned back he was alarmed to see she had tears in her eyes. Omega instinct had him halfway across the room, the blanket forgotten where it landed on the floor, before he realized he was about to hug the alpha without her consent. He stumbled to a stop and clasped his hands, unsure what to do as his desire to comfort battled with common courtesy.

She breathed out a laugh and gave him a watery smile, holding out her arms and without another thought he ran the last few steps into her embrace. They were the same height, chins hooked over each other's shoulders. Her curves were soft against the slim musculature of his body, her hands firm where they pressed against his spine. Stiles found himself sinking into the warmth of her embrace. It felt so much like his memories of hugging his mother that he felt his cheeks grow wet with tears and he hid his face in her soft dark hair, just as he felt something damp on the shoulder of his borrowed shirt.

They stood like that, rocking slightly as natural pheromones worked on both of them to wring out their sorrow and replace it with something like peace. Stiles wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but when Talia chuckled and gave him a final squeeze before letting go, he felt like he’d been taken apart and remade.

The room seemed surreal when they separated. He blinked quickly, but realized his senses weren’t lying, that what he was seeing was accurate. Everything looked sharper, more distinct and hyper realistic, almost as if his eyes had shifted, but he knew they hadn’t. If he looked he knew he could read the titles on every book in the room. The old book smell seemed somehow denser, too, like a decadent perfume. Talia handed the blanket to him and he felt a pleasant jolt race up his forearms when his hands caressed the impossibly velveteen texture.

“What?” He said, but even his voice was different, richer and as soft as the fur.

Talia placed a hand at the small of his back and gently pushed him to sit in one of the leather chairs facing the desk. “Sit and we’ll talk,” she prompted, and he obeyed easily. It felt so good to do what he was told, even though something in the back of his mind told him that was definitely not a normal feeling. “What you’re feeling is normal,” she said, as if she’d heard his thoughts. He wouldn’t put it past himself to have spoken them out loud. Everything was strange and he didn’t quite trust himself or his perceptions at the moment, but, inexplicably, that didn't worry him.

She sat in the chair beside him instead of behind the desk and he appreciated that small demonstration of companionship, like she was treating him as an equal instead of as an inferior. It was a small gesture, but was still better treatment than he’d gotten from any of his beta teachers at school. They had never been thrilled to have such an outspoken omega in their classes. Dr. Deaton had been slightly better, but his enigmatic nature had always made Stiles wary.

“Stiles,” she said, putting her hand atop where his were curled up in the blanket, kneading it like a cat, “What you’re experiencing is a chemical reaction in your brain from coming into contact with me, an alpha. Specifically a mated alpha. It’s called alpha-omega euphoria. Have you heard of that?”

He dragged his eyes away from one of the bookcases and back to her. Stiles nodded slowly. “Mom used to, before,” he said, then went back to studying the titles. There really was a little bit of everything in the Hale’s library. He could spend every waking moment reading the books and never get bored. Well, he’d probably have to run in place or something to keep himself in shape, but he was fully capable of doing that while holding a book, as long as it wasn’t too heavy.

“You and your mother used to cuddle? Have you done that with anyone else since her death?” Stiles thought there was a touch of concern in her voice, but when he looked back at her she had the same calm expression as before.

He shook his head, “Dr. Deaton suggested it, but it would have been weird with him and he never pushed it. Don’t really know that many alphas.” Certainly none he’d want to get up close and personal with in order to exchange sensory-altering pheromones. One small hit of it from Jackson had been enough for a lifetime of awkwardness between the two of them, their shared interest in Lydia aside.

Talia was nodding and smiled in understanding. “I think the reason you’re feeling the affects so strongly is because it’s been so long since the last time this happened to you. I’d still like to talk to about what’s going on, if you think you can keep focused on our conversation. If not we can wait until you’re feeling more yourself.”

The thing was, Stiles felt more like himself in that moment than he had since the attack. He felt, well, not normal, but normal for him.

Grounded, that was the word.

“Tell me,” he said, settling back in the chair with the fur gripped against his chest. It was oddly similar to how he remembered story time with his mother when he was a child. His eyes fell half-closed as he watched Talia smile.

“As you wish, little omega,” she said with such gentleness he grinned back at her. Just like when he was young. "First, I want to tell you a story I know you haven't read. It's one of the most important ones we took from the archives when we realized how far the betas were reaching for their power and how much control they were beginning to exert through the council. This is among the most important stories we have of our heritage."

Stiles felt his brow furrow and reached a hand up to smooth down his expression, idly thinking that he didn't have Derek's eyebrows so he couldn't pull off that kind of look. "Who is we?"

Talia shook her head with a smile, "All in good time, child. I'll begin it the traditional way, shall I? Once upon a time, when wishes still worked and the world was balanced, there was a quiet village in a beautiful valley near a calm sea. Within the village were small packs composed of alphas and omegas, living together in harmony, equals under the law and in each others' eyes. No one went hungry and all the children were tended to by all with love and affection.

"One day, a small boat was seen on the horizon and the villagers watched in wonder as it came to shore bearing a new and unusual person, a beta. None of the villagers had even known anyone with such a classification, but they welcomed him with the same kindness and respect they showed each other."

The pleasant fog wrapping Stiles began to fade as Talia spoke. There was a feeling inside of him, half-remembered from when his mother used to tell him stories as a child. A building, breath-quickening kind of anticipation he'd always reveled in.

"Now, the beta was from a large family of mixed types. He'd often gotten lost amongst the chaos of so many strong-willed and manipulative siblings, many of whom were bigger and faster than him. All he ever wanted was something for himself, and so as he witnessed the outpouring of guileless love and empathy in the village, he began to plot."

Stiles was beginning to see why no one told the story at school. He couldn't imagine his teachers being thrilled to discuss a character who demonstrated the stereotyped beta traits of jealousy and pettiness.

"No one in the village suspected him of having ulterior motives, so it was easy for him to move about unhindered, learning their weaknesses and strengths as he searched for what he was looking for. One day, just after a cooling rain, the beta found just that, an omega picking berries in the woods, alone without his alpha mate."

That, Stiles knew from his reading, was a classic trope in old fairy tales. When a lone omega met a beta in the woods, only bad things came of it. A lot of the old tales had been reworked, though, to make the villain a kanima or they changed the setting to somewhere near water and blamed a kelpie for attacking the often helpless omega. He leaned forward in anticipation as she continued.

"The omega wasn’t frightened of the beta as he moved closer, scenting the air and leering. ‘What may I help you with?’ the omega asked. ‘I want you,’ the beta replied. The confession confused the omega and before he could say anything more, the beta changed into his wolf form and pounced, trying to lay a claiming bite on the omega’s neck.

“You see, in the village, none of the alphas or omegas felt threatened or jealous, so they’d never practiced the act of claiming their mates in such an obvious manner. The beta was quick and agile, a _lupus hodophilax_ , but the omega, when he shifted in surprise, was bigger and stronger, a proud _lupus alces_. They fought briefly as wolves, growling and snapping, until the omega’s mate heard the ruckus and rushed to his aid. She shifted as well, into a _lupus lupus_ , pure white and red eyed in her fury. Fighting together, the omega and alpha were quickly able to force the beta into submission, into his human form, but not before the beta had accomplished his terrible goal.

“When the omega realized he’d been marked, he shifted back and wept, already feeling the unyielding pull of the beta’s will against his own. His true mate, the snow white alpha wolf, threw back her head and howled to the heavens in a plea for the gods to aid them in their sorrows, to undo the terrible evil that had befallen them. The beta, thinking he had won, laughed at their pain and commanded the omega to kill his alpha wife. Unable to disobey the order because of the new bond, the omega cried out in anguish as he wrapped the alpha in a tight embrace, whispering that he was so, so sorry as he tightened his arms around her neck. The alpha did not struggle against his too-tight hold, and licked one long stripe across his tear stained cheek before she died in his arms.”

Stiles was crying again, sniffling wetly as Talia continued.

“Because the omega didn’t return the beta’s claim, their bond was unbalanced and the beta’s growing greed soon became a dark desire to conquer. He wanted the entire village for himself, not just one sad omega. Word quickly spread about the beta’s unpardonable actions and every alpha and omega pair immediately made the choice to formally claim their mate with a bite, or else risk the lone omega’s terrible fate as an unwilling thrall to the beta fiend.”

Talia paused and handed Stiles a handkerchief from her pocket, it was embroidered with an elaborate _H_ and smelled like her and Andrew and the Hale pack. He smiled his thanks and after blowing his nose, nodded for her to continue.

“Even faced with unwinnable odds, the beta still ordered the omega to attack his friends and brethren. Heartsick with the loss of his true mate and burdened by guilt at having killed her at the beta’s command, the omega turned to his oppressor and said, ‘You have taken everything from me and my mate and in return we will do the same to you and your kind.’ He shifted and collapsed, dead before his dark body struck the ground. The mated pairs moved together to attack, but when the beta tried to shift and defend himself, he could only produce claws and fangs. His wolf was gone. The villagers tore him to shreds and burned his body to ensure he would never torment another soul. From that day, forward, no beta could ever again fully shift as punishment for their brother’s terrible actions.”

Stiles had no words. The implications of the story were mind-blowing, history-altering at a fundamental level. It sounded a lot like the older fairy tales his mother had read to him, but there was something about it that seemed to show the truth, or a version of it, at the very least. He looked at Talia with wide eyes.

“Is this a true story?” he asked in a hushed voice slightly rough from crying and awe. Even to his own ears he sounded vulnerable, a bit lost and exposed like the lone omega had been without his true mate’s claiming mark.

Talia nodded, watching him, “Yes, Stiles, it’s a true story.”

“But,” he began to protest, then let his voice go silent when he realized there was nothing for him to say. It was a story, which meant some of it was likely an exaggeration, but there was actual truth in it as well. Regardless if betas had or had not, at some point in time, been able to shift into full wolves like alphas and omegas, they couldn’t anymore. That much was accurate. So was the reality that an unbonded omega could be taken by force, bitten and claimed against their will by either a beta or possibly an alpha, though it was exceedingly rare in the modern world, and as far as he knew there had only been documented cases of unwilling claims made by betas. He suddenly felt sick when he automatically applied that knowledge to the situation his classmates were in, captives of the hunters, angry betas who had showed their mercilessness at least once before.

“Why?” he said, at a loss. Unsure whether he was asking her why the beta had done such a terrible thing, or why she’d felt the need to tell him the story.

Both, maybe.

“Because no one should forget their origins,” she said with all the mystery Dr. Deaton enjoyed shrouding himself in. Stiles thought it might be an alpha thing, but couldn’t remember his mother ever being so annoyingly coy.

He hesitated before asking, “That's the history of Beacon Hills, isn’t it?”

She seemed surprised, but nodded again. “It is.”

Stiles looked around at the books on the shelves, he thought he recognized a few from the archives and more of what Talia had said came together, the at-first indistinct pattern suddenly came into focus. “My mother was the one who gave you that book, wasn’t she? She worked in the library and had access to everything. She was there before the fire and if anything was marked for disposal or to be locked up in the vault, she could have easily snuck it out after hours.”

Talia smiled, warm, but a little sad. “She did, along with many others.” She waved to indicate the volumes surrounding them, “Anya had an idea of the council’s plan to cull some of the more controversial tomes and made sure they went to me instead of the shredder. We first became good friends when she arrived at Beacon Hills as a young adult, packless and refreshingly fancy free. I introduced her to your father, and I’ve never seen two people fall in love so quickly. Their courtship was short, but their bond was quite strong from the start."

That made sense, to a point. "But I don't remember you coming over, or you inviting us to your home." That's what friends did, right? They blended their packs for strength and security, like Melissa and his dad, Scott and him.

Talia's smile was sad, "No, we stopped appearing as close when you were born. The council was already established and Anya felt it prudent to distance ourselves publically, for the safety of our children. We kept in contact, though, mostly with your father through my work at the courthouse and with Anya, thanks to Peter's literacy volunteering. Now we use Laura as a go-between with the sheriff, or he calls me directly."

"Did you know what was going to happen with the hunters at the solstice? Is that why you stopped being so close?" It hurt to ask, to think about the possibility that his mother's death could have been prevented, but Stiles had to know the truth.

"Of course we didn't," Talia looked as wounded as he felt, "If I'd had any idea what they'd been plotting, I would have been with your mother, fighting at her side, collar or not."

"You really were friends?"

"The best," she said, like it was that simple.

"Where were you the day of the solstice, then?" He didn't remember any of the Hales being there, but then again a circus could have been racing through town and Stiles probably wouldn't have realized it, having been too full of bone-deep sorrow and impotent rage at the time. Most things he remembered from around that time were his mother’s gruesome death and the feel of his lungs burning as he ran through the preserve away from the chaos.

Talia looked over at the books, though didn't seem to see them as she spoke. "We were accompanying Peter on a trip to an auction house in the northeast. It was a nice one where the omegas put themselves up for sale; there were no coercive tactics or fear-stink sullying the place, and Peter was certain he’d find his mate there. Unfortunately, the journey was unsuccessful, as you probably gathered.”

It was unusual for an alpha to be single at Peter's age, probably his late 30s or early 40s. Stiles imagined it would be a very lonely life without family to rely on. He wondered if his dad was lonely, then shut that thought down as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to think about that when he was still surrounded by a scent he associated so much with his mother’s memory. He let his mind drift back to what Talia had said and frowned in confusion.

"Wait, then who was the omega in residence? Mark said there had to be one, like it was one of your pack’s rules.”

Talia’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she still looked happy about Stiles’ question. “You have quite a good memory. We left Connor and Michael in charge, they were still living in the main house at the time and the common consensus was that they’d benefit from some uninterrupted time alone to bond. They didn’t even know about the attack until days after the festival, when they went to town to run errands. The rest of us were informed immediately after that and we returned as quickly as we could, but of course the damage was already done and the council quickly declared a state of emergency. I still can’t understand how effectively they flourished despite it having been betas who attacked in the first place.”

“Is that why you don’t make Derek wear a collar? Because you don’t trust the council enough to let them have power over him?” And that was probably a question Stiles shouldn’t have asked, but his brain to mouth filter seemed to be dysfunctional, which was not exactly a new phenomena.

“That is something better discussed with the alpha in question, don’t you think?” She kept smiling, though, so Stiles didn’t think he’d ruined the moment with his impulsivity.

“What was the second thing you wanted to tell me? You said first, and then told the story. What was next?”

“You are so much like your mother.” She sounded wistful for a moment before clapping her hands together. The crack seemed to shatter any lingering haze left from the alpha-omega euphoria and Stiles felt himself jump. “Second, I want to thank you for being patient with me as I told you the story. It’s a powerful piece of our heritage I don’t want you to ever forget. But what I really want you to know is that I’m sorry for what you’ve had to suffer, and it hurts me to think we’ve added to your distress during such a stressful time for you. Your reaction tonight was inappropriate from a dynamics standpoint, but utterly justifiable from the perspective of a son concerned with his father’s well being.

“Now, despite what you may think, the sheriff is aware that you’re here. He knows we’ll keep you safe and hidden from anyone who wishes you harm, but no one else besides us knows this. If I let you call him, there’s a very real possibility that someone else could overhear your conversation and that would put us all in danger.”

“They would think you had something to do with the attack,” Stiles guessed. Her argument made sense, but he _needed_ to hear his father’s voice. There was still a part of him, though much frantic after hearing Talia’s story and about her connection with his mother, that doubted her motives. He never had been easily persuaded when he got an idea in his head.

She nodded, as if hearing his unvoiced concerns. “I understand you’re worried about him, and so I have a proposition for you.”

Stiles leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“It’s common for me to phone the sheriff at the station, to check in on things and ask questions about the cases I’m working on.” She was a dynamic rights defender for alphas and omegas, and would often help represent them in court, even if she wasn’t able to earn an actual law degree. That was something that rankled his father, seeing such a stand-up citizen discriminated against because of her type. “What if I call him now and let you hear his voice, so you’ll know he’s okay? I can even convey a message from you, so he’ll know for certain that you’re safe as well.”

It wasn’t exactly what Stiles wanted, which was a patented Stilinski hug from his dad, to smell his dense forest and gunpowder scent, but it would do for the time being. “That sounds fair,” he said slowly, aware that Talia had said it was a proposition, implying he was expected to offer something in exchange.

“And in return, I would like for you to try integrating into our pack.”

That was. What?

“What?”

No one asked an unmated wolf, especially not an omega, to act like pack. Not unless there were strong bonds of friendship or the wolf was courting someone in that family. Oh.

_Oh._

“Are you asking me to-” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was crazy. She couldn’t possibly expect Stiles to begin a courtship with her son without Derek’s knowledge or consent. That went against everything he’d been taught, and was pretty close to what he’d just heard in her Beacon Hills horror-fest foundation story.

Talia cocked an eyebrow in a manner that reminded him so strongly of Derek he blushed.

“I mean, of course you’re not asking me _that_.” It was safer to assume she was offering an extension of her previous friendship with Stiles’ mother instead of, instead of the other thing. “I’d um, I’m going to work on the whole, _act like part of the pack_ thing, then. That sounds incredibly reasonable and fair and can we call my dad, now?”

She took pity on him and twisted the phone on the desk so it was between them. “No talking, remember? The phones at the police station are likely tapped. Now, before I call, what would you like for me to tell him?”

Stiles took a deep breath. He felt strangely light, as if, for once, everything was going to work out for the best.

“Let’s start with his diet,” he said with a slow smile. If he was living with the Hales, Laura could bring his dad some healthier dishes for lunch, and actually ensure he ate them. Things were looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, I'm blown away by all the pro-Stiles comments after the last chapter! It's awesome to see so many people up in arms about his kidnapping/hostage situation/however you classify it and the Hale's behavior in response to his distress.
> 
> As for this chapter, parts of it actually made me really sad and/or enraged, for hopefully obvious reasons.
> 
> Small edit to chapter one - I am apparently incompetent at basic math and had to adjust Stiles' age during the solstice attack from nine to eight, making him seventeen during this fic (nine years after his mother died). Just in case anyone was gravely concerned about how things literally didn't add up (you had one job, self, one job).
> 
> Thanks again for all of your feedback! I do read every comment, though I don't normally respond because most of my at-the-computer time is spent editing and fleshing out the story. I use google docs on my phone to write most of it while I ride the bus (public transit ftw!), so some errors and inconsistencies slip through the cracks as it's a pain to backtrack and re-read stuff on the tiny phone screen. Maybe one day I'll go back and make the edits some of you are kind enough to suggest, but in the meantime, oh well!
> 
> Apparently I'm quite wordy today. Back to writing and I hope you enjoy chapter ten!


	11. Chapter 11

Stiles woke up with something heavy pressing him down so his face was squished onto the pastel sheet of Ava’s bed. It took him an embarrassing amount of time and useless flailing to realize it was Laura and she was actually sitting on his back. Like he was an extremely wiggly chair. Or she was five. Who did that?

"Wake up, lazy, it's time to greet the day and all that jazz.” She sounded positively joyful. It was gross. “Mom says you're weeding the garden as punishment for being a brat, my word, not hers. Derek will be joining you because he challenged her authority like an ass, her word, not mine. I have to say, you dorks make quite a pair!"

He grunted at her as his mind tried to keep up with what she was saying. Normally, Stiles wasn’t much of a morning person, least of all when he was actually pounced on, as Scott could attest. He hadn’t tried that particular method of waking Stiles since they were little, with good reason. More recently he’d employed a water bottle while holding a pillow as a shield and standing close enough to the door in case he needed to make a break for it. Laura seemed not to have any problem poking the veritable grizzly bear with a short stick, though it wasn’t as if Stiles was in any kind of a position to defend himself. The pheromone cocktail he’d gotten a hit of the night before certainly wasn't doing him any favors, either. He wondered if how he was feeling was what a hangover felt like to betas.

"Wow, you're a real charmer when you first wake up," she said, obviously grinning, though Stiles couldn't see since he was busy trying to suffocate himself with a pillow in order to escape her torturous pep. Stiles had always thought that no one should speak to, or really even look at him before he'd been awake for at least half an hour. At the very least. More like an hour. He really wasn't a morning person.

But that in no way dissuaded Laura from _bouncing_ on him until he finally whined and un-turtled his head from where he'd wedged it under the pillow.

"Fine, fine, you win! I'm awake. Are you happy, you harpy?"

Laura _cackled_ and tried to  _ruffle his hair_.

It was Twilight Zone levels of weird and a lot for Stiles to be asked to handle two minutes after waking up. Luckily, someone interrupted them by tapping on the door frame. Stiles twisted as much as he could, but caught Derek's sunshine after rain scent before he saw him leaning there casually. His dark jeans and charcoal gray henley were tight enough to display the alpha’s impressive build, and Stiles’ sleep-fogged mind wondered just how much the alpha worked out to achieve such chiseled definition. He suddenly remembered seeing Derek’s shirtless chest, but in wolf form he hadn’t been too interested in really _looking_ at the insanely sculpted muscles. He hoped his blush was attributed to just having woken up and not to his interest in the sudden memory of sweat rolling down the triskele tattoo between Derek’s shoulder blades.

"If you're finished tormenting our guest, Mark is expecting you to help prepare breakfast. It's your turn, Laura, and you're not getting out of it this time. I even reminded mother." His smirk was playfully wicked and Stiles found himself mimicking it as he poked Laura's side.

"Guess you're going to have a fun morning, too! Who doesn't love cooking, right?"

Laura grumbled as she jumped off him and stalked to the door, unnecessarily slamming her shoulder into her brother as she passed him.

"I like cheese in my scrambled eggs," Stiles called out, just to hear her swear. He wasn't disappointed.

Derek's smirk faded as he stood there, eyes dropping to the flowery rug in an oddly submissive manner. "Are you, uh, feeling better today?"

Stiles shrugged, telling himself sternly that the suddenly bashful alpha wasn't totally cute. "I'm not freaking out, if that's what you mean. I kind of lost my shit there when I thought my dad was in the dark about this whole thing, but I heard his voice over the phone when your mom called him, so it's all good, now."

Derek seemed confused, "My mother didn't let you speak to him?"

"No, he was at the station, which is where he should be given that his only child just disappeared with twenty three of his unbonded classmates. Talia didn't want to risk someone overhearing me talking, so she just conveyed what she could of my message to him."

"What message?" Stiles could smell the faint leathery scent of the curiosity that accompanied Derek's question.

"Not to eat too much junk food, to get some sleep and not to rip out anyone's throats if they didn't deserve it."

Derek's impressive eyebrows furrowed, "Is that something we should actually be concerned about?"

Stiles grinned, "Naw, he's a softy, at least most of the time, but he doesn't suffer fools, so that's something we're working on."

"Laura says he's fair in his treatment of the alphas on the force."

"I was thinking more of the assholes on the council, but no one is exempt from foolery, I guess. But yeah, he likes working with most of his alpha deputies. Hey, speaking of working, what was Laura talking about when she barged in here and tried to squish me? My brain hadn’t fully booted up, yet."

Derek's hazel-weird eyes gave him a once-over, then he was back to looking vaguely embarrassed. "Mother decided the two of us," he flashed his broad hand between them, "should channel our anger into weeding the garden, instead of growling at her."

"You mean we're both grounded for sassing her? She's grounding us?" Stiles couldn't help but feel extremely amused about that. Both Melissa and his dad shared that particular power over Scott and Stiles and he felt an odd warmth and assurance that Talia had assumed the same kind of authority over him. "Wait, what did you do? I know I’m in trouble because I freaked out and growled at you guys last night, which really hasn't ever happened before. I didn't even know I could make that kind of a noise in my human form. But it isn’t like you were my accomplice or anything. Wait, they’re not blaming you for me sneaking in and using your computer are they?"

Derek shifted his weight from one foot to the other and studied the doorframe like it was the most fascinating thing ever. "No, it has nothing to do with that. It was, uh, yesterday morning," he confessed quietly, "when mother came in here and spoke to you. It sounded like your heart was going to beat out of your chest and I confronted her about frightening you. I may have been out of line in my approach."

"Dude, did you yell at your mom because you were worried about me?" That was, that was kind of sweet, actually, though still bizarre that Derek had been _actively listening_ to Stiles’ heart. Though it was probably just a dynamics thing, or something. An erratic omega heartbeat could set off alphas, he supposed. Except that no one else had ever tried to rip a door off its hinges when he was close to having a panic attack. After a moment, when it didn't look like Derek was going to answer beyond an uncomfortable shrug, Stiles rubbed a palm over the back of his head.

"Well, I guess I better take a shower or something, right?"

"Use mine," Derek said with a suspicious kind of abruptness.

Stiles blinked at the alpha. "Uh, okay. But are you sure you don't mind me being in your space, what with my ill-informed breaking and entering last night?"

"It's fine, Stiles. I put a set of your clothes on the counter. Now hurry up or Conrad will eat all of the cheesy scrambled eggs without you."

With that he breezed away from the door and was down the hall before Stiles could get another word in.

That was a first. A lot of firsts, really.

_Huh_.

Stiles’ clothes were where Derek said they’d be, folded in a neat pile on the dark granite counter of his bathroom. Mind unclouded by worry, Stiles was able to appreciate the clean lines of the tasteful stainless steel fixtures and he almost crowed when he saw the rain effect shower head in the natural stone-tiled shower. He’d seen similar things on home improvement shows and had made a mental note to see if he could convince his dad it was a must-have. Stiles hadn’t gotten around to that, yet, but was eager to try Derek’s to see if it was as awesome as it looked.

It was.

Well, after Stiles figured out how not to drown himself under the luxurious pounding water. He also found that Derek had excellent taste in soaps and scrubs. None of them were overpowering, and Stiles could tell they’d compliment his natural scent without covering it up. As he rubbed some of the exfoliator into his legs and feet, he remembered the days at school when they’d learned about how some things smelled good to one person, but not to another. His mother had been drawn to sharper citrus scents while Stiles and his dad had liked those and also some of the cleaner earthy tones. That discussion had led to them smelling different essential oils at stations around Mr. Harris’ class, which had turned into a kind of an impromptu perfume war when Scott accidentally knocked one of the vials over onto Lydia’s dress.

It turned out, bergamot was not a good smell on her, or really on anyone in Stiles’ opinion. It was the kind of smell that made him want to physically recoil from her, which was certainly a first. She’d responded by calmly tipping some sandalwood oil into her palm and gently slapping it against Greenberg’s cheek, clearly mistaking him for the culprit. Greenburg then took the unexpected initiative of screwing on a spray-bottle cap to the lavender essence he’d been holding and squirting it at Scott, who dodged so Stiles had been misted with it, instead. After that it was mostly a chaotic blur of scents and squeals as the omegas attacked each other.

They were all in trouble by the time Harris finally managed to get them back under control, and they’d had to use the omega showers to try and wash off the stink. Stiles would have done it all again just to see Harris’ uncontrolled partial shift, eyes flashing beta yellow when he’d growled at them to cut it out. That, and he’d been doused in a spray of rosehip at the time, which was actually a pretty good smell on him, funny enough.

Scott _and_ Stiles had gotten detention for that little incident, even though it had been an accident and Stiles really had nothing to do with it, for once. Well, looking back he'd probably gotten in trouble for the way he'd laughed uncontrollably at Harris' delightfully floral scent. Harris had not enjoyed hearing his not-quite-mocking laughter, but in all honesty Stiles was of an opinion that scents shouldn't be segregated by classification. He thought anyone should be able to smell like a garden without being embarrassed, but it was clear his teacher didn't quite agree.

When his dad had picked him up that night after the extended school day, he'd lectured Stiles on the importance of respecting authority figures even if he didn't agree with them, but Stiles was pretty sure the sheriff had bitten back a laugh when he'd told him about how complementary the rosehip was to his teacher’s natural herbal scent. He wasn't a fan of Harris, either, even if he practiced what he preached and respectfully acknowledged Harris' authority as a council member. At least publicly.

Even Derek’s shampoo was a top-of-the-line organic brand Stiles had heard Lydia talk about with some of the other omegas in class. According to her it didn’t lather because apparently the ingredient in other soaps that did that wasn’t very good for omegas, or something, and was gentle enough for cubs, as well. Not that Stiles was giving _that_ tidbit of information any kind of thought, whatsoever.

At all.

Nope, he was definitely not thinking about the possibility of bearing Derek’s cubs while standing naked in Derek’s amazing shower using Derek’s awesome-scented, omega-friendly soaps. Because that would be indulging in a delusion of epic proportions, like when he’d pinned over Lydia for a large chunk of his adolescence. Now, as an almost adult, he knew a lost cause when he panted after it, even leaving aside the omega to omega incompatibility that had hampered his dreams of sweeping Lydia off her feet, so he shut off that part of his brain, and anatomy, and and the shower, in order to focus on drying his thoroughly cleaned body. He was guest in the Hale home, an honorary pack member and nothing more. It would be unbelievably stupid to mistake their generosity for something other than them feeling an obligation to care for a friend’s lost child.

Even though both Stiles and Derek were unbonded, it didn’t mean they should be automatically thrown together as potential mates. His life was neither a sitcom nor was it the convoluted plot of a romance novel. In his experience, two plus two didn’t always equal four. Well, sometimes it equaled four, but other times it was closer to five, or to _it’s never going to happen so get over it now instead of pining for a decade like a hopeless tool_.

Again.

Besides, there would be a lot fewer awkward boners in the mix if he could just see Derek as a friend or a cousin or something. Now, if only his rational brain could kick his omega brain into compliance, that would be great. Stiles sighed as he slipped on his clothes, glad to finally be back in his familiar jeans and tshirt. At least he could pretend to feel normal while doggedly ignoring his inconveniently growing feelings for Derek. Right?

_Ugh_.

He was so screwed.

When Stiles got to the kitchen, Derek was lounging casually against the island, carefully deconstructing an orange. He studiously ignored the powerful lines of the alpha’s body and walked around to where Laura and Mark were cooking enough food for an army, or six alphas and two omegas.

“Smells great,” he commented, earning him a small smile from Mark and an eye-roll from Laura.

“She really doesn’t like to cook,” Oscar said from the table where he was reading a paper. Conrad sat across from him with the sports section, but didn’t acknowledge Stiles beyond a dismissive glance. Eudora was a bit more friendly as she waved her way out of the room with an apple in hand, “I’m off to the hospital for my shift, don’t act too much like children while I’m gone.”

Talia entered the room just as the burners were turned off and the heavy plates were set on the table. “Good morning, Stiles, I trust Laura has shared how you and Derek will be spending your day.”

Stiles felt himself blush, but didn’t give into his embarrassment. He’d brought the punishment upon himself. "Yeah, about that. I just wanted to say I'm sorry for my behavior yesterday,” he said, facing her, but he knew he had everyone’s attention, “I know I was out of line and I wanted you to know it won’t happen again. I also don’t want you to attribute what I did to me being an overly emotional omega.”

It was something that endlessly bothered him about tv shows and in other media; blaming someone’s reactions on their classification was a way to undermine why they felt and thought the way they did. It reduced them to a label instead of acknowledging that they were an emotionally complex person with a range of feelings and attitudes outside of the constrictive dynamics structure.

He took a deep breath and continued, looking at his hands, “My dad is my only living family, and I thought he didn’t know I was safe, which made me worry about him and his health. When my mom was killed we both lost it for a while and we’ve tried to take care of each other ever since.” He looked over at first Conrad and Oscar, then at the others as he said, “I trust you all, and I want you to know it, so I’m sorry and I hope this doesn’t keep us from getting along in the future.”

The table was silent for a long pause before Conrad shrugged and tossed his portion of the paper toward Laura, who caught it one-handed. “Sounds good to me. Can we eat, now?” He looked at Talia and she rolled her eyes, Stiles saw where Laura got that from, and nodded.

“Who am I to get between my little brother and his meal?”

He took a large bite of eggs and Talia smirked, “The first person to eat gets to clean, after all. Thank you, Con, for volunteering.”

Mouth full, he tried to protest, but everyone’s laughter drown him out and he eventually threw up his hands in exasperated surrender. _ **  
**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse is strong with this one, so I expect to keep posting on a semi-regular basis, though probably not daily since I kind of have to do things like go to work and pretend to have an actual life (lame, I know). 
> 
> Next up we have some more Stiles and Derek interactions, so we'll see how that goes! Manual labor builds character or something, right?
> 
> As always, your comments are appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

Derek sat back on his haunches, which couldn’t be comfortable in jeans that tight, though they did all kinds of nice things for his ass and muscular thighs. Not that Stiles was looking, or anything. Because really, that was the last thing he needed to focus on if he was going to be spending the entire day in the alpha’s company, bending over a patch of dirt together, pulling weeds and getting dirty and Stiles really needed to _stop thinking_.

“How about we make a deal,” Derek said, wiping a hand down his face as he surveyed the overgrown mess in front of them.

It was perfectly evident to Stiles that the Hale omegas, and probably the children, were largely in charge of the expansive garden plots that took up a significant portion of the back yard behind the main house, and in their absence Mark had clearly been unable to keep the weeds at bay while simultaneously taking care of the remaining alphas at home. Not that Stiles blamed him, leaving aside the stereotype of the incessantly demanding _diva alpha_ , taking care of so many people was probably a lot of work.

Derek stood with a sigh, “I propose that for every plot we finish, I’ll answer a question, but if you try to ask another without us having finished weeding that particular area, you’ll have to answer one of mine. What do you think?”

It seemed fair, sort of. At least it was a surefire way of finding out at least a little more about Derek and his family, since Mark and Talia had refused to talk about specifics when he’d asked them, choosing instead to be cryptic and mysterious about the whole thing. But even if it turned out to be a wash, at the very least it would help the time go faster. He hoped.

“Sounds like a plan. So, where do we start? What is all this, anyway? Neither of those are my first question, by the way, I just have no practical experience with anything like this,” he gestured to the clearly overgrown mass of green.

That summer, as part of his schooling, Stiles was supposed to split his time between working on a local farm where he would be learning to grow and cook organic food, and at one of the childcare facilities just like he had the last two years. It was all part of his obligatory omega training, to ensure he was a fit husband with an adequate knowledge base so as to be a benefit to his future mate and his or her pack. It was also bullshit and free labor, but none of his teachers had liked that particular truth pointed out to them.

Derek looked surprised, “This is where we grow a lot of our herbs. Mark’s a great cook, but my father was classically trained and his meals often require some of the more exotic types we can’t find at the store or market. Once he started using fresh herbs grown here instead of dried ones, he insisted we expand our selection, and now we have this. There’s a laminated page somewhere around here that will show what is planted in each row so we don’t pull the wrong things.”

They found it in short order and Derek used the bottom of his dark shirt to wipe some of the dirt off so they could better see the detailed colored pictures. Stiles quickly memorized all twelve plant types and stepped onto one of the stone paths set between the rows. “So just pull the things that weren’t on the paper? Seems easy enough.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep this nearby, in case you need to reference it?” Derek said, waving the sheet.

Stiles waved a hand, “No, I got it. Where do we put the weeds? Should I be wearing gloves for this?”

“Toss them into the grass and not if you don’t want to. There shouldn’t be nettles or anything too hard to pull, we keep the soil well aerated. If something is too tough leave it and we’ll deal with it, later.”

“You mean you’ll deal with it?” Stiles raised and eyebrow as he crouched. He could read between the _I’m a strong alpha_ and _you’re a weak omega_ lines, disappointingly enough.

Derek knelt on the grass across from him with his knees on one of the stones. “That sounded like a question to me, so I get to ask you something.” The jerk was smirking.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine. Be my guest.”

He didn’t ask right away, instead carefully tugging at something that wasn't on the list. Stiles waited, but Derek seemed content to keep working in silence. Stiles shook his head and went to work, too. It wasn’t really that hard. The same plant, lemon thyme, was planted in that row, so picking out the things that didn’t look like it was easy.

After several long minutes, he finally stopped and looked at the alpha. “I'm pretty sure in order to ask a question you have to actually, I don’t know, ask something.”

Derek’s mouth quirked into a half-smile.

“That wasn’t a question, by the way,” Stiles felt the need to say because he wasn’t all that great at waiting for things and it was pretty obvious Derek was enjoying toying with him.

“I am aware.”

Derek worked diligently, with an easy familiarity that spoke of long hours having performed the task before, probably alongside the other Hale children, or maybe he was used to doing it as punishment. Either way, it was quite an image, and it made Stiles breath out a laugh as he yanked a particularly tenacious weed.

“I can tell you’re enjoying this, which is kind of sick, just so you know.”

“It’s a beautiful, _mostly_ quiet day, I find it difficult not to enjoy doing something so mindless and relaxing.”

“Oh, I see how it is, you’re actively tormenting me while we do manual labor together. That’s a thing that’s happening, now.” Stiles moved down the row a bit and continued working.

Derek looked at him, then, an eyebrow cocked. “Tormenting you.”

Stiles sighed good-naturedly, “Now you’re just being mean, asking me a question without actually asking. That should be against the rules, in fact, I’m now declaring it such.”

He hummed in response and moved to mirror Stiles position. “Not very patient, are you?”

“No, no I’m really not. Oh my god, that was a question! Yes, that was an easy one. And we’re only about a quarter of the way through this plot and we’re going to be here forever in awkward silence, so that’s fun.”

“Who says our silence has to be awkward?”

Stiles waved a dirt-stained hand. “Oh, no. You only got one, no cheating. Besides, we’re going to be doing this for a while, we might as well get to know each other a little better.”

Derek snorted, “Fine, I suppose if you dislike silence so much we’ll have to find a topic of conversation that appeals to us both. One that won’t prompt questions will be difficult, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“That sounds remarkably fair and rational of you.”

The alpha nodded seriously, “Well I am remarkable.”

“You certainly are _something_ ,” Stiles laughed and he swore he saw a flush creep up Derek’s neck. “Okay, then, let’s see, topics of conversation that could possibly appeal to both of us? That was rhetorical, I’m thinking. Hm. We could talk about sports. I’m assuming you’re into that type of thing.”

“Because I’m an alpha,” Derek said with a flat tone.

Stiles couldn’t smell his emotions over the pungent scent of the herbs around them, so he didn’t know if Derek was offended or curious or just messing with him. He split the difference and answered honestly. “No, because you look like you could bench-press a jeep. I figured you must like some kind of physical activity outside of running and probably weightlifting. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Sounds like you’ve given me a lot of thought.” Derek was studiously ignoring Stiles as he worked on the patch between them.

Stiles tossed a weed at him, “Oh my god, don’t be an ass. It’s either wonder about what you and the other alphas here do all day or think about all the crap that’s going on outside our little isolated island of sweatshop work and manual labor.”

Derek let the silence linger for a beat, then said, “Baseball.”

“That is, indeed, a sport. Good job.”

“Now who’s being an ass.”

Stiles spread his dirty hands, “Okay, fair enough. So baseball. That’s cool, I can talk stats.”

They discussed it as they worked their way down the row of hearty lavender, and halfway through the lemongrass. In the end they agreed to disagree about which was the best alpha team, and fell back into a peaceable silence. When they finished weeding the lemongrass and started on some kind of mint Stiles had never heard of, he looked up at Derek to gauge his mood. The alpha seemed content, the sleeves of his henly pushed up past his elbows, revealing strong, veiny forearms streaked with dirt and wet patches from the plants he’d pulled.

“Your mother told me a story, yesterday,” Stiles said, aiming for casual, but quite obviously falling short.

Derek looked up, his easy calm suddenly vanishing behind a mask of something not unlike apprehension. After a beat he nodded and went back to weeding, albeit without the same ease as before. “My mother has a lot of stories to tell, you’ll have to be more specific.”

Stiles’ eyes narrowed, but he copied Derek’s actions and rolled his shoulders to relieve the building tension there. “It was a fairy tale, sort of.”

“Ah, you mean the origin story of Beacon Hills,” Derek said, noticeably relaxing.

Stiles wondered what story Talia could have told him that would make Derek so closed off and nervous, but he filed away that thought for later, instead focusing on the conversation at hand. “Yeah, it’s quite a story. Sad.”

Derek was watching him again. “Sad but true,” he said.

“The truth is often sad,” Stiles agreed. He felt a bit like Deaton, trading riddles and half-thoughts without really saying anything.

But that seemed to be the right thing to say because Derek lowered his gaze to the dirt between them. “I cried every time she told me that story, when I was younger, and even now I still tear up, occasionally,” he said.

Stiles very consciously did not suck in a breath upon hearing such an unexpectedly tender confession, but he did smile softly. He knew that while omegas were considered the more openly emotional members of a household, that alphas felt things just as keenly, but were socially stigmatized for openly displaying how they felt. Hearing Derek talk about his emotions so freely gave Stiles an added insight into the workings of the Hale pack. It was a good sign that they seemed to accept and legitimize how everyone felt, and not just the stereotypically _sensitive_ omegas.

It was only fair for him to share a bit of himself in return for Derek’s candidness. “I definitely cried last night, sobbed, really.” And that was enough of that. “Hey, I’m a _lupus lupus_ , like the alpha in the story. I was surprised by that, since there aren’t any others of my type around here, at least not that I know of.”

“You’re right, that is an uncommon subspecies in this part of the country. Your coloring is also rare, I noticed.”

Stiles shrugged, “My mom wasn’t from around here. Her coat was black-tipped gray, I’m not sure where my orange patches came from, though. Hey, it was interesting that none of the types in the story are actually from around here, though. Right? I mean, the beta’s subtype is extinct and the omega’s is one of the rarest, and I’m pretty sure they’re almost exclusively found pretty far to the north.”

“And yours is normally found on another continent altogether.”

Stiles gave a self-deprecating grin, “Yeah, ‘cause that’s what I needed as an only child, to be a huge _lupus lupus_ in an omega class full of medium to small-sized subtypes.”

“Being bigger must have been advantageous at times,” Derek said. They were nearly halfway through the plot, moving on to work on a patch of lemon basil.

He shrugged, “It’s not like I used it against anyone, that wouldn’t have been fair to the other omegas. I don’t play sports much in my human form because I’m not really that coordinated, and as a wolf it would have been too easy for me to win most games.”

“It sounds like treating others fairly is important to you.”

“Omegas have it bad enough without one of their own kind bullying or intimidating them, even unintentionally.”

Derek nodded, but it seemed as if it was more to himself than to Stiles. “Would you like to ask me a question, now?”

Stiles glanced at where they were working, with still a quarter of the herbs to weed. “We’re not done, yet, but yeah, I’d like that.”

There were dozens of things he wanted to know about the Hales and Derek in particular, but he knew he’d have to proceed with caution or else risk alienating the alpha. He’d already shown that there were tender spots Stiles should avoid pressing. He only hoped his intuition guided him around those.

“Okay, since we were on the topic of wolves, what subtype are you? Mark implied you and Laura are the same, but I couldn’t figure it out, even after seeing her.”

Derek snorted, “You’re going to feel dumb when I tell you.”

“Not a new feeling, I assure you. So? Quit stalling.”

The alpha cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders with a muscular fluidity. “Like the omega in the story, I’m a _lupus alces_. Laura, Ava and I get it from our father. Lance takes after our mother’s side.”

“ _Lupus tundrarum_ ,” Stiles said, only half-paying attention. Of course, that explained why Laura was a little bigger than him. It wasn’t just virtue of her being an alpha, since neither Oscar nor Eudora had been that large. But then Stiles looked at Derek, eyes wide, “Wait, how big are you as a wolf? I know your subtype can be gigantic. Hell, Laura outweighed me and I’ve only met one or two wolves, alphas, that could do that, and neither of them were _alces_.”

“That sounded like another question to me,” Derek said. His smile showed teeth.

Stiles smiled back, though he knew he didn’t look nearly as cool or predatory. “You know, if you would just talk about yourself I wouldn’t have to ask you leading questions.”

That seemed to surprise him. “You _want_ to know more about me?” He asked it as if that was a foreign concept and it broke Stiles’ heart just a bit.

“Of course I want to know more about you,” he said with raw honesty. Afraid he may have revealed a bit too much about his not-so-innocent interest, he continued breezily, “And that was just your rebuttal question, but since I’m not a dick I’ll magnanimously allow you another, if you want.”

Derek shook his head, like there had been something buzzing around his ear. “Okay, mister magnanimous, my actual question is; what is your favorite book?”

“Damn, good question.” Stiles was actually surprised by that one, though he probably shouldn’t have been, not after seeing both Derek and his parent’s collections. “Um, that’s tough, but I’ve always liked the old fairy tales. My mom worked in the library archives when I was a kid, before they burned, and I must have read almost everything down there.”

When Stiles looked up, Derek was frozen in place, eyes strangely distant before he blinked back to the present. “Fairy tales?” he choked out, shook himself, and continued more easily, “Do you mean stories where the evil alpha keeps her omega daughter in a tower until a brave beta comes to her rescue? That kind of fairy tale?”

“So many questions,” Stiles teased, trying to keep Derek in the moment and not back in whatever dark memory that had temporarily taken him. “But no, those are the bastardized beta rewrites, I mean real fairy tales, like the one your mom told me. Evil beta in the woods, epic fights, maybe a harpy or two to defeat. The good stuff.”

“Ones where the omega and alpha defeat their evil oppressor and live happily ever after?” There was a weight to the question that didn’t seem like it fit the situation, an undercurrent Stiles was just beginning to detect. He felt the compulsive need to follow it to its source.

Which was when Conrad, Oscar, and Laura came bursting out of the house in their wolf forms, barking playfully as they chased each other around the plot Derek and Stiles had just finished before they raced off into the woods.

Talia appeared on the porch. “Ah, I see you’ve weeded one, another nine to go. Keep up the good work, boys, and remember we need some spinach and lettuce for dinner, if there is any ready to pick.” She left them to it, returning to the house.

Whatever had been between them was gone, at least temporarily. They moved together, gathering the weeds they’d plucked into a basket and dumping it onto the compost heap by the treeline. The next patch looked easier, thick rows of cauliflower and broccoli with zucchini spaced apart from each other. Stiles took up his place on one of the stone paths in the thick of it while Derek crouched along the outside.

“Since my last question was a freebee, I get another one,” Stiles declared. Remembering the fairy tales and his mother sharing them with him inevitably brought him around to her death and the damned collar she’d been wearing at the time. He looked up, eyes automatically drawn to Derek’s bare neck. It probably wasn’t a polite question, but he wanted to know the answer more than he cared about the consequences of asking, which was shitty and stupid, but he knew he could be both of those things, sometimes, so he asked anyway. “Why don’t you wear a collar?”

“Because I don’t want to,” Derek replied shortly, like he’d been asked and had answered the same question a hundred times.

Stiles felt a burst of irritation he knew Derek could probably smell now that they weren’t surrounded by pungent herbs, “Oh, come on! That’s hardly an answer! I could come up with a better one than that!”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, “Go ahead, then.”

And wasn’t _that_ a challenge. One Stiles would gladly rise to, if only to shut up the jerk’s stupidly expressive eyebrows, which didn’t make sense, but whatever. “Okay, fine, I will. Personally, I think they’re completely barbaric and a crutch betas use to keep alphas in line because they’re afraid of returning to the old ways.”

“Like in one of your fairy tales, those old ways?”

Stiles shrugged, “A lot of those are based on history, real history, not the beta-washed junk we read about in school.”

“You’ve given this some thought.” Derek’s voice was carefully neutral.

“Of course I have,” Stiles said, gambling on his honesty, “it’s an unfair system to alphas as much as it is to omegas.”

That seemed to really shock Derek. He finally managed to choke out, “You think the system is unfair to _alphas_?”

Stiles failed to see Derek’s problem with the assessment. “Yes,” he said slowly. It was perfectly evident to him. He said as much. “Don’t you agree, or do you just not wear the collar because it chafes or something. Oh, shit, did I just espouse my revolutionary ideology to a drinker of the beta council's Kool-Aid? Are you going to have me arrested for thought crimes because believe or not, my dad doesn’t disagree with me.”

Derek sat back on the grass and swiped his filthy hand through his hair, mussing it and leaving it comically streaked with dirt. The image was very much at odds with the heaviness of their topic of conversation, so Stiles didn’t point it out just yet. Derek finally managed to gather himself and he seemed to see Stiles for the first time.

“No, no one is going do anything like what you said. No, I agree with you, we all do.”

“What do you mean by _all_ of you?”

   Derek’s hazel-mixed eyes were trained on Stiles, captivating him with their green-no-brown-no-blue depths. “I mean my entire family, every alpha and every omega who is chosen as their mate. We don’t just scour the country looking for those whose scents are compatible with our own, we look for those who agree with our ideology as well, and are willing to fight for their beliefs.”

   Stiles felt something inside of him grow, an extension of the anticipation he felt when Talia had told him about the true founding of Beacon Hills, and further back to the root of the sensation he’d first felt while sitting in his mother’s lap, listening to her reading from books older than even that story. He felt like he’d finally found his place, like he was exactly where he belonged.

“Uncollared,” Stiles said quietly, feeling warm and oddly triumphant, “that’s a good look on you.”

Derek grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gave myself some feels with this one.


	13. Chapter 13

When Mark called to them from a kitchen window to come in for lunch, they cleaned up with the hose before going in through the mud room, wiping the water off their arms with one of the towels and joking about trivial things. There was a delicious spread of sandwiches and various salads waiting for them at the small breakfast table in the kitchen, along with fresh lemonade, and Talia.

Mark was oddly quiet as she asked them all about their morning, but she effortlessly steered the conversation away from any of the drama that occurred the night before, apparently following Stiles’ personal philosophy of ignoring a problem until it went away. Derek was surprisingly talkative, though, describing how each of the plots they'd weeded were coming along and estimating when the different plants would be ripe enough to harvest.

"You think the cucumbers will be ready by the time your father returns?"

Derek nodded and took a sip of his lemonade. He'd added two extra spoonfuls of sugar to his with the unselfconscious ease of someone used to doing so without censure. Stiles resisted the urge to follow his example. His teachers would probably have yelled at him about cavities or overindulgence making him an unappealing mate or something stupid and dynamist. The Hales really were something else.

"It will be if they're returning before the first of summer."

Talia made a noncommittal noise and helped herself to some of the egg salad. "We'll see how the rest of spring plays out before we decide."

Halfway through a dessert of little rhubarb tarts, the front door opened and loud footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Mark stood even before Talia said, "I think Eudora would benefit from a hug, don’t you, Mark? There are some things I need to look into, but I'll be available by phone if you need anything from town." She turned to Derek and Stiles, “Boys, keep up the good work, I should see you all for dinner.”

And with that their quiet lunch was over.

"I thought Eudora had a shift at the hospital today," Stiles said, standing to clear the table. Those usually lasted longer than just the morning, he knew from Melissa’s schedule.

Derek shrugged in obvious confusion. “Something changed, I guess,” he said, but didn’t sound entirely convinced.

He helped Stiles put away the leftovers and wash the dishes. He had always liked having company in the kitchen, but his dad had never been around often enough at meal times and Scott wasn't overly fond of cooking anything besides cookies, and once he found a no-bake recipe, he spent as little there as he could get away with. Their home ec teachers had not been amused at his lack of enthusiasm.

It became clear that in addition to gardening, the alpha was also proficient with a dish towel. He dried each plate and cup quickly, yet thoroughly, before putting it away and a few short minutes later they were done. After a quick bathroom break, Stiles couldn't hear anything coming from Laura and Mark's room, but he thought he caught the feeling of an overabundance of omega pheromones coming from that direction, the two of them returned to their surprisingly pleasant outdoor punishment.

With three plots down, they no longer adhered quite as stringently to the previous rules of the question game and Stiles slowly learned a lot more about Derek and the Hales. During plot number four Derek told him about how Eudora and Nancy had met at a bi-dynamic college that had catered to alphas and omegas, but had since closed due to low enrollment and changes to the law. They had biology together and hit it off instantly. It sounded like quite a love story, but Derek had glossed over most of it, either because he was an alpha, or because it was his aunts, Stiles didn't know. He made a mental note to ask someone else, either Mark or Eudora, when he got the chance.

Derek did tell him about how Nancy had always been extremely empathic, which was a gift and a curse in her chosen field, medicine. Eudora was on a similar path, adept at taking pain from patients. They were bonded within a year and continued on to medical school together. Well, Nancy went to med school and when she came home every night she taught Eudora everything she’d learned that day. Eventually, segregation caught up with them and then neither were able to earn medical degrees, but they eventually found a program that allowed any of the types to become nurses specializing in pre and postnatal care.

“It’s because betas can’t do the calming pheromone thing or the pain thing, right?” Stiles asked, tugging at a particularly stubborn weed. Its root system must have combined with another plant because it was not giving up easily. Stiles began to dig around it to find out if his assessment was accurate.

Derek nodded, he’d abandoned his shirt somewhere around plot three and even though they'd hosed off before lunch, his chest was already streaked with mud like war paint. It was a good look on him. Barbaric, but good. Maybe it was good _because_ it was barbaric. And _that_ was a thought for another time.

“That’s probably the only reason they’re allowed to work in the hospital here. Plus, all the patients, betas included, have nothing but good things to say about them.”

Stiles smiled, “Oh, I'm sure. What's not to love, right? An omega and alpha taking care of you during one of the most painful experiences of your life? Yeah, I’d say having an empath and a pain-sucker at your side would be pretty awesome.”

“Infant and beta mortality have dropped since they started,” Derek said, but it wasn’t a brag.

For some reason, despite all of his muscles and beauty, Stiles couldn’t imagine the alpha bragging about anything. He added that realization to the rapidly growing _you are really really not cute, Derek Hale_ pile in the back corner of his brain.

The root system of the plant he was digging up extended perpendicular to the rows of eggplant and Stiles carefully separated the invasive roots from those of the vegetable.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek said, finally having caught onto his bizarre quest.

“Dude, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m liberating this eggplant from the choking tendrils of evil trying to take it over. It’s a good thing, too, this plant is smaller than the others and if I hadn’t rescued it, I’m sure this water stealing whatever weed would have ended up sucking the life out of it.”

Broad hands met his in the middle and in two quick yanks that sent soil flying all over them, Derek succeeded in extracting the rest of the weed’s root system.

“Show-off,” Stiles said without any heat.

Derek didn't seem to think that personality assessment required a rebuttal.

Stiles let him have the rest of the weed, which he'd wrapped around his wrist to keep it out of the way while he worked. As they unraveled it, dirt flaked off his skin, revealing small pink splotches.

"That doesn't look healthy," Stiles commented before his arm was yanked roughly and he found himself staring at Derek's ass from an entirely new angle. It certainly took the _barbarian_ thing to a-whole-nother level.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he wheezed, diaphragm definitely not enthused about its current position with an amazingly muscled, bare shoulder digging into it as Derek sprinted away from the house, "but could you take a second to, oh I don't know, explain what's happening right now?"

"Sounds like a question," Derek said automatically, but Stiles definitely smelled some hot-metal worry despite the apparent flippancy.

Stiles was about to respond but then the itching started. "What the? Dude, this is like ants in the pants, but it's all over my arms and hands, instead. Ants on my arms? Ants up my sleeves? No, those sound lame. Hey, where are we-"

His question was cut short as he found himself _flying through the air_ and then _engulfed by frigid water_.

Not. Cool.

When he sputtered to the surface Derek was treading water beside him, dark hair slicked onto his forehead and a concerned look on his face that cleared up almost instantly.

"Oh, good, you can swim."

" _Oh good you can swim_? That's what you're going with? You just cave-wolfed me into a pond, dude, I'm going to need a little more of an explanation than _oh good you can swim_."

The no doubt forthcoming explanation, ha, was interrupted by barking and suddenly the three wolves from earlier appeared along the shore here they'd entered the water.

"Red spots and itching," Derek told them, "I dropped it somewhere between here and the garden. Eudora's home, mom left for town."

Oscar and Conrad took off, but Laura stayed behind to bark one more time before she followed her uncles back in the direction of the house.

"This is all very exciting," Stiles felt the need to point out. He tried not to attribute it to a natural alpha predilection for dramatic flair, but after what had just happened he was having a hard time not accepting the stereotype.

Derek was very obviously not looking at him. He was one of the least subtle people Stiles had ever met, and that included Scott, who thought a stage whisper was positively cryptic, even around alphas and their built-in super hearing.

"Also, it's obvious you're ignoring me, right now, which is dumb because we're the only people here and this clearly has something to do with that stupid weed we were pulling."

Nothing.

Except for the revelation that Derek's eyebrows were just as expressive when wet as they were dry.

"Fine. But you're being an ass again, just so you know. Wait, are our hands going to fall off? Is our skin going to slough off? I don't want my skin to slough off, that sounds super painful and I'm not all that good with pain."

Derek was back to staring at him, but the alpha had had his chance to talk so Stiles kept going.

"Oh, I know, they have to mix up an antidote or we'll be poisoned to death. No, that sucks, I don't want that to be it. How about they have to concoct a potion to counteract the magical effects of the sap, which left untreated will render us senseless for the foreseeable future, like in a fairy tale! That's better, let's go with that. Way better than skin sloughing off or arm amputation."

"Stiles," Derek said, but there was a smile in his voice even though he looked exasperated.

Stiles gave him a sassy look in return, "Oh, are you finally feeling the urge to contribute to the conversation Mr. Cave-Wolf?"

"I'm feeling the urge to do something." Violent by the look of it, but Stiles wasn't intimidated. Much.

"Uh, huh," he said, but the impact was lessened by his inability to lift just one of his eyebrows.

Derek did it, instead, and Stiles splashed him in retaliation.

"Ass," he said, but he was smiling.

"Says the one splashing me."

"You dunked me in here to begin with," Stiles reminded him. “I think you can handle a little splashing.”

Derek rolled his eyes to look up at the clear blue sky, "In order to keep the sap from spreading to other parts of your body, which would have been exceedingly unpleasant, trust me."

Stiles went under for a second, then bobbed to the surface. Derek was closer than before, but then again treading water didn’t lend itself to staying in one spot.

"Dude, you could have told me that from the get-go instead of pulling the _enigmatic alpha_ card. Which, while you're extremely good at it, don't get me wrong, is still a dick thing to do to your omega buddy when he as weird, plant-induced itchy spots creeping up his arms."

"What would have been the fun in telling you when you seem perfectly capable of coming up with your own theories?" 

Not that it looked like Derek was having very much fun. He actually looked a bit miserable with just his head and neck above the cold water. And suddenly Stiles was at a bit of a loss. He realized Derek had never once told him to be quiet or shut up, not even when Stiles had been intentionally annoying. Sure he'd implied it, but had never actually said it outright. Even Scott told him to zip it, sometimes, and Stiles knew he'd poked at Derek a lot more than he did most people. He had the embarrassing mental image of a younger version of himself pulling Derek's pigtails and running away. And wasn't _that_ a disturbing revelation? Derek's imaginary pink dress aside.

"I think you like it when I ramble," Stiles declared because sometimes his mouth just went ahead and said things _without his permission_.

Derek looked away, but anything he was possibly going to say was cut off by barking. It was starting to be a theme, Stiles noted with frustration, them being interrupted before what he whimsically decided was bound to be some kind of a grand reveal. He was going to have to enter into negotiations with a deity or something to sort out the whole _inconvenient cosmic timing_ aspect of his interactions with Derek.

Or he was just going to have to give the rest of the Hales a stern talking-to about interrupting them when they were together, which was when he realized just how much he truly enjoyed spending time with the alpha, even when he was just listening to Stiles ramble. Willingly and without, well, mostly without, complaint.

Eudora came into view first. She was in her human form with a pint sized mason jar in her hands and a smirk on her face.

Along the way Stiles had also come to realize that a smirking Hale was a scheming Hale, and that was a sight that should immediately fill him with alarm.

Conrad and Oscar appeared next, still as wolves, but Laura had shifted and was running with them wearing a white sundress and no shoes.

“Welcome to the party,” Stiles called, waving jauntily at Eudora. “Are you here to work your medical magic on us? The itching stopped, but that could be because most of my body is numb from the freezing water.”

“It’s not that cold,” Derek grumbled, but his face was pale and Stiles could see goose flesh on his arms when they got close to the surface.

Stiles gave him an _uh huh_ look before he turned back to the other alphas. “So what’s the verdict? Or is it outcome? Diagnosis?”

The wolves made a circuit around the pond, then took off in opposite directions, probably to run the border. Laura and Eudora smiled at each other and Laura put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to have get out of the water, first. Come on, Derek, you know the drill.”

The drill? That wasn’t promising, certainly not with the wicked look on her face.

“Is this some kind of hazing ritual?” Stiles asked because he could and he wouldn't put it past Laura to kick her brother, and him, when they were down.

Derek snorted, but started toward them, anyway. “Something like that. Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Stiles followed him and floundered to shore, doing a bad job of not looking at Derek's wet t-shirt contest winning physique, even without the wet t-shirt. Especially without it. If his jeans had been tight when dry they were positively obscene when wet. Stiles, on the other hand, was pretty sure he looked like a half-drown cub.

Laura _chortled_ at them and danced gracefully away from Derek's attempt to either soak her with a hug or toss her in as well. It really was a shame he missed. Stiles would have tried to help, but he was in no way that confident about his ability to get away from her when she inevitably chased after him in retaliation. Laura was probably really good at plotting revenge, too. She gave off that evil older sister vibe.

When the siblings finally calmed down, Eudora moved to open the the jar of what looked to be purple tar.

"Wait, this is going to smell bad and generally suck, isn't it?" Stiles guessed. He knew such things. Melissa had tried out all sorts of concoctions on him and Scott when they were younger and more prone to harrowing acts of stupidity. Her salves had probably saved the sheriff a lot of money on potential hospital bills, though, even if Stiles’ omega biology made him heal a lot faster than a beta. But compound fractures and being impaled accidentally with a stick still hurt like the dickens, so he'd always let her practice on him.

"Give the kid a star," Laura smirked, but he could feel the warmth of the praise behind the snark. That took some of the edge off, even though his hands and arms suddenly remembered they itched.

Eudora finally broke the seal and the pungent scent of rot flooded the air like a physical cloud of awful.

"Holy, what _is_ that? Did something _die_ so you could make that? You're not honestly going to touch me with it, are you?"

Derek dipped a couple of fingers in it like it didn't smell as if something had vomited up a decomposing cat, but his nose was crinkled so Stiles could tell he at least was experiencing some of the same nose-searing horror as the rest of them. Laura had actually retreated back toward the woods, upwind from the awful stench Derek was _casually rubbing into his arms_. Like it was one of his omega-friendly lotions or anything not absolutely reeking of decay.

"Oh hell, no. That's not happening. I'll just wait it out in the pond, the pond is fine," he said, backing up in that direction, but Derek's goopy hand seized his shirt and Stiles was confident _that_ stain was never going to come out.

"Take this off and use the salve or there is a very real possibility that yours skin _will_ slough off," he monotoned.

"If that's bullshit I'm holding it against you," Stiles said, pulling the back of his shirt over his head so he wouldn’t get the gunk on his face.

Stiles' was aware his chest did not even begin to compare to Derek's. Not that any of Stiles' anything compared, really, but a lot of that was a difference in biology he had no control over. Okay, so he could have been like Scott and actually worked out obsessively to build up his abs into something with actual countable definition, but the Internet was a thing so that wasn’t something that had really happened. Not that he was ashamed of himself, or anything, he just knew his gangly paleness wasn’t prize-winning material compared to the glistening Adonis in front of him, purple arm paint or not.

He knew he could continue to obsess over himself, or he could do something about the growing itching burn crawling up and down his arms like bugs under his skin. He also knew how to be petty and exact revenge.

“Laura,” he whined, “Come help goop me! My arms feel weird and tingly, I need your help!” Because he could be just as much of an ass as anyone. Besides, he still hadn’t forgiven her for sitting on him as a wakeup call that morning.

She narrowed her eyes, one hand clamped over her mouth and nose. “Don’t you dare, Stiles,” she warned, but she was already walking toward him with an involuntary jerkiness.

Stiles hadn’t even used any of his omega wiles, which made it even better.

“Please!” He bounced on the balls of his feet and held out his blotchy arms, which, uh, were beginning to swell a bit. Stiles even threw in a dramatic pout for added effect.

Derek was openly staring at him, purple-coated arms motionless in front of him, while Eudora bit her lips to keep from laughing. Stiles had always enjoyed working with an easily amused audience.

Laura swore as she got closer, snuffling through her nose like a wolf before she grabbed the jar with a huff and quickly slathered Stiles’ arms and hands with the vile tar-paste-goo in practiced motions. She could have been a little gentler, but Stiles knew better than to mention it.

“This happen a lot?” he guessed as she held the jar for Eudora to close. His skin had already lost its uncomfortable crawly-ness. “What kind of plant was that, anyway?”

“It was a milder type of _aconitum_ ,” Eudora said, watching his arms as the crap quickly dried a paler shade of purple. It was almost periwinkle on Stiles’ light skin. “And yes, it happens occasionally. Derek did the right thing, washing you both off as quickly as he could, though the hose would have been a less aggressive alternative.” She gave Derek a look he pointedly ignored.

Stiles turned to him and laughed, “Told ya you didn’t have to go all barbarian on me, dude. Wait, what? _Aconitum_ , that’s poison, isn’t it? We were just poisoned? It’s kind of awesome and terrifying that I was right about that. Are there going to be side-effects or anything weird going on with us? Are we going to die? Is this you letting us down easy, giving us false hope or something?" He didn’t think they were, unless the Hales were uncommonly unruffled about a family member’s imminent demise via innocuous-looking plant poisoning.

“Calm down, Stiles, we’re fine,” Derek grumbled, but he sidled a step closer as if to give some physical as well as moral support. “When this turns to powder we’ll wash it off in the pond and that’ll be the end of it. Let’s just hope you remember what it looks like so you don’t touch it again in the future.”

“Bedside manner, dude, I was just poisoned,” he said, just to see Derek roll his eyes again.

Stiles glanced between himself and the alpha and couldn’t keep from shaking his head. They both looked all kinds of dorky standing there shirtless with their flaky purple arms awkwardly hanging out in the breeze. Stiles' wet pants weren’t all that comfortable, either. He was not having a very good run of luck when it came to chilling casually with the Hales. Things seemed to get crazy with an alarming frequency.

“Cool, so I guess I’ll have to work on my patience. This should be fun. Who wants to play twenty questions?”  
Stiles had never seen Eudora or Laura move quite so quickly before as they made half-assed excuses and sprinted away in the direction they'd come. When he glanced over at Derek, instead of looking like he wanted to scrub the crap off his arms and chase after them just to get away, he turned his head loosely to face Stiles with a calm expression of resigned. But even with the expected show, he smelled like the mushroom scent of content, so their little fiasco wasn’t a total wash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to skip from the last scene to what happens in the next chapter, but this all just kind of bounded out of my head without permission.  
> Huh.  
> How about that?


	14. Chapter 14

Stiles entered the kitchen after his second shower of the day; he would never get over the awesome that was Derek’s showerhead, he decided. He felt much better since he smelled like himself again and not the non-scent of the washed-off purple powder. That had been a relief to figure out, that after the goop dried it lost it’s vile dead-rot-crap smell, but it was still weird not smelling like _anything_. Mark was the only one there, carefully measuring the dry ingredients for something while reading the recipe on a tablet propped up beside the mixing bowl. As Stiles got closer he was able to see the title, but it looked like it was written in French, so that wasn’t very helpful.

“Stiles,” Mark said, dumping in something that looked and smelled like sugar.

“Hey, Mark, just wanted to know how I can be useful.”

Mark glanced back, slim hands hanging motionless in the air as he gave Stiles an assessing once-over. “You’re not upset with me for telling on you to the alphas.” It was an observation, not a question. He smelled curious, though.

“I don’t see a point, really. Besides, in the end it cleared up a lot of misunderstandings we had going around, so maybe I should really be thanking you for helping me get all that out of the way.”

Mark made a considering noise and turned back to his indecipherable recipe. “You can cut up some strawberries, if you want to help.” His shoulders were still a bit too tense, though.

Figuring it was better to just get everything out in the open, rather than linger under the uncomfortable cloud of omega malcontent, Stiles stopped as he was about to open the fridge, and faced the taut line of Mark’s back. In for a penny, or whatever.

“I’m sorry about lying to you. Well, not exactly lying, but misrepresenting my intentions when you sent me up to Derek’s room last night. That was a shitty thing for me to do and I don’t want you to think I make a habit of being a manipulative jerk. I was just really upset thinking that my dad was alone and afraid for my well-being. I’m not excusing my behavior, though, what I did to you was wrong, but I hope that by explaining why I lied might possibly be able to, at some point, forgive me.”

The other omega turned fully to face him, leaning back against the counter as he looked Stiles in the eyes, his dark gaze unrelenting, but not unkind. “Neither of us behaved admirably last night, so let’s just agree that in the future we’ll be more honest with each other in order to avoid a similar situation. Unbalancing a house of alphas has it’s risks, as I’m sure you were told in school.”

“Okay, that’s fair, and yes, I’ve heard that.” He had learned the theory behind pheromone interactions affecting the moods of both omegas and alphas, and to a lesser extent betas, though his practical experience was limited to chance encounters and his new living arrangement with the Hales. He was eager to find out how much was fact versus fiction in the lectures his teachers had half-heartedly given on the subject, but having just been forgiven for his transgressions, Stiles figured he wouldn’t push that line of inquiry with Mark just yet. “So, strawberries? What are we making, anyway?”

“It’s Derek’s night to choose, so we’re having dessert before dinner. Strawberry shortcake followed by a mixed greens salad with walnuts and whatever is left of the strawberries, then steak. Talia's in charge of the grill, so if you want yours cooked more than rare, you should tell her when she gets back from town.”

Derek liked his _dessert first_? That wasn’t one of the most adorable things he’d ever heard. Stiles suppressed a groan and got out the small strawberries that smelled like they’d been picked by Oscar and Eudora, maybe during their run after they’d showed Stiles around. It was clear he was going to have to really force himself not to think about Derek as anything other than another alpha in residence at the Hale house if he was going to keep his sanity and libido in check. He certainly wasn't going to obsess over the fact that Derek was a big softy who liked to eat his dessert first and cried when he heard sad stories and bought omega-friendly soaps.

Okay, so maybe calling the last one _cute_ was a bit of a stretch, since it demonstrated a bit of forethought and planning that could be considered a bit sad since he _didn’t_ have an omega mate, but Stiles appreciated it, nonetheless. Even as he tried desperately not to read too much into it. He knew the mating run was coming up in a few months, and although it was virtually guaranteed that the omegas would all go home with their new mate, the odds were not as good for alphas, and probably for the betas that undoubtedly participated now as well. If Derek was planning to try for a mate the traditional way, he would probably go home disappointed. Not because he didn’t deserve a mate, but because the odds of claiming one with such a small pool of omegas versus the large number of alphas and betas weren’t in his favor.

Stiles set up at the island, facing into the kitchen, and methodically cut off all the green leafy tops as he and Mark discussed non-Hale or dynamics-related topics, the previous weight having lifted from the conversation. Of course, in the end it did cycle back to dynamics and, inevitably, the Hales.

“You mean you haven’t had a run in almost a month?” Stiles asked, appalled. Even though shifting wasn’t his favorite activity, Stiles still understood the necessity of exercising the wolf on a regular basis. Not doing so could lead to all kinds of psychological and emotional disorders, though probably not after just a month. He thought.

Mark shrugged, “I’ve been the only omega around since the others went to visit Andrew’s parents. The Hales have rules and I’m not about to break them.”

That seemed reasonable. “Okay, how about this, why don’t you and Laura go for a run tomorrow and I’ll stay here. Will that work? I mean I am an omega, so I count, right?”

“You would do that for me, for us?” Mark looked floored.

It made Stiles feel a bit uncomfortably, honestly. He didn’t see what the big deal was, unless he’d missed something major along the way, but he’d already said it and really didn’t mind helping out Mark when the omega had shown himself to be a pretty decent person, so he nodded with a smile.

“Sure, I’d be happy to, if the others think it’s okay.”

   Mark already looked miles away, though, his smile brilliant with anticipation. “I could see how the construction is going on our cottage, and measure to make sure the furniture I want will fit in the rooms. I haven’t hunted in ages, maybe Laura will go with me to take down a stag, like we did during our honeymoon. I'll have to move some things around, but I'm sure we can make room for more meat in one of the freezers downstairs."

Stiles laughed, mood buoyed by the other omega’s good humor. Any lingering negativity between them was gone. “You could go for a swim, too,” he suggested, which led to Mark telling Stiles stories about the pond and his misadventures in learning to swim there when he’d first arrived at the Hale’s home.

Talia returned just as the shortcake went into the oven. She smelled like the freshly turned earth scent of frustration and a heavy mix of rusty anger. She didn't even speak when she entered the kitchen, just waited for Mark to close the oven and then she folded herself over his back, wrapping her arms tight around his smaller frame with her head tucked against his neck, breathing in deeply.

Laura and Derek appeared in the doorway almost immediately, looking concerned but neither spoke or made a move to interrupt Talia grounding herself with the omega in residence. Stiles had heard something about the phenomena, _peacemaking_ , but seeing and feeling it in action taught him a lot more than a disinterested Mr. Harris ever had when he’d dismissively read a paragraph about it from their biology textbook. From what Stiles gathered, it seemed like Talia was making herself receptive to Mark's calming pheromones without allowing her anger to affect him. Or maybe Mark was the one actively giving, but not taking. Stiles would have to look into that, or try it for himself.

In the meantime, the rest of the alphas filtered in, Oscar and Conrad unselfconsciously naked from their run while Eudora had changed out of her scrubs and into a dress similar to Laura’s. All of them were agitated, sensing Talia’s mood, so Stiles focused on conveying the same peaceful calm Mark was exuding. There was no reason for more than one of the alphas to be so upset. At least not until they found out what had caused the matriarch's distress in the first place. And certainly not when there were two perfectly functional omegas available to help manage everyone’s emotions.

Eventually the sweet smell of the cooking shortcake began to overcome the faintly lavender scent of Mark and Stiles’ combined peace-and-tranquility vibe. Talia slowly pulled away from her son-in-law, eyes slightly distant as she moved to sit at the breakfast table. The other alphas followed her, Eudora, Derek and Laura taking the other chairs while Oscar and Conrad knelt on the floor. Stiles thought it was a bit weird to have naked people in the kitchen, but no one had asked him and he certainly wasn’t going to volunteer his opinion during such a high-tension situation.

Stiles followed Mark’s lead and helped pull the shortcakes out of the oven and onto cooling racks while the alphas talked in quiet voices. He heard enough, though. More than enough.

“Does this have anything to do with me being dismissed today?” Eudora asked. She was looking at where her hands were clasped together on the table. “They told me not to come back until my omega _keeper_ returned, or until I decided to wear a collar at work. Like I can’t control myself or something. Can you believe that?”

Talia shook her head in commiseration and squeezed her sister’s hands in one of her own. “They’re overreaching, Dora," she said with something like quiet triumph in her voice.

“We knew they would,” Conrad said, bumping his shoulder against his brother’s, a lot like how Stiles and Scott showed they had each other’s back when one of them was feeling particularly shitty. It was a clear demonstration of moral support, and Oscar nodded in response.

The physical displays of affection between the alphas was unexpected, though was something Stiles was familiar with from his own relationships with his dad, Scott and Melissa. It was nice to see the Hales engaging in something similar, though. His beta teachers had certainly glossed over that particular alpha factoid, in addition to the _peacemaking_ , and probably a ton of other things as well.

Stiles missed some of what was being said as he helped Mark clean up the contained mess from the dessert preparation, but then he heard something that made his blood run cold.

“The mating run is in two weeks?” he heard himself ask, interrupting Oscar mid-sentence. “Sorry, but what the hell are they going to do when a quarter of the omegas are still missing, even if half of them probably won’t run, anyway?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Oscar said and Conrad nodded in agreement.

Derek was leaning back in his chair, apparently fascinated by his own bare feet, which were propped on the bottom of his sister’s chair, while Laura was watching her mate and Eudora and Talia were staring at Stiles.

“Sorry, if this is supposed to be a private conversation I can leave, but it does seem to have to do with me, don’t you think?”

Talia raised her eyebrows. “Were you planning to run this year? It’s your choice isn’t it, seeing that you are seventeen?”

Stiles felt his face flush an annoying dark pink as he suddenly had everyone’s undivided attention. He figured that until he knew the Hale’s stance on things like _the run_ , he’d play it as safe as he could.

“Uh, yeah, that’s _to be determined_ , at the moment. I was going to see how all of this played out before I made that kind of decision.” Judging by Laura’s slightly suspicious expression, she’d heard about Stiles’ reservations on the subject from Mark, so he continued, “I’m not really all that keen to do the run, though, considering what happened the last time I went to the solstice ceremony.”

“Understandable,” Laura said, looking slightly mollified.

Derek, on the other hand, didn’t look much of anything. His expression was so carefully blank Stiles knew something was bothering him, though with a bus load of AWOL omegas, any of whom could be a potential mate for the alpha, he figured that was reason enough for him to be bitchy. Stiles still wasn’t a hundred percent sure about the Hale’s stance on the run, since they seemed to go pretty far afield to find their omega mates, but buying someone when all parties were of their sound mind and in their human bodies was different from spending the day chasing down a mate and claiming them in the dirt while in their wolf forms. Much different. Besides, Talia had told him that Peter looked for a mate _elsewhere_ during the fateful solstice run when the hunters attacked, so maybe the Hales _didn’t_ support it, afterall.

"I'm waiting for a call from the sheriff," Talia said. "He is going to inform us of the council's decision when it's made, but I expect we already know what they're plotting."

"A summoning," Laura growled, "that's idiotic."

The alphas all began speaking at once, arguing the merits and dangers of what they seemed to all think was the council's inevitable decision, to have the missing omega’s packs howl in unison to summon the kidnapped teens. Stiles had never been summoned by his pack, not even when his mother was killed and he had taken off into the preserve. He had participated in group howls on rare occasions of celebration or mourning, but despite his and Scott’s sometimes wayward natures, neither of their parents had ever felt the urge to exploit their omega physiology by howling at the exact pitch and timber that short circuited all rational thought and decision-making ability, leaving only the overwhelming urge for them to shift and run to the source of the call. While not exactly illegal, summoning wasn’t highly thought of among omegas or most alphas, oddly enough.

Unbelievably, the whole situation was a classic fairy tale trope which usually had evil betas forcing the omega's aged alpha parents or intended alpha mate howl for them to return home, only to have the beta try to, or in darker stories, succeed in, capturing and forcibly bonding the omega.Stiles couldn't help but see the parallels between the stories and the council's decision, but why move up the mating run?

Oh, _shit_.

"They going to call the omegas so they can immediately participate in the run, aren't they? That way, even if they've been tainted, especially so, no one will know it. The smell of their new mate will cover up whatever was done to them, or whoever it was that held them captive.”

While the other alphas looked mildly impressed with Stiles' guess, Derek looked pained.

"Just like in a story," Stiles felt the need to point out. The story with two different outcomes; either the alphas won, or the betas. Neither scenario gave the omegas much of a fighting chance, however. He could only remember one story where the omega was able to shortcircuit his biology to join his alpha intended in slaying the evil beta trickster. One story. Out of dozens.

Talia leaned back in her chair and dragged her fingers through the short hairs on the back of her son's head. "If we're following fairy tale logic, the betas of the council as well as the hunters have been plotting this charade for some time. It takes a lot of coordination to break tradition in such an unconventional manner."

"They're in league," Conrad said like he was repeating himself, as if he'd made the same declaration time and again, and would continue to do so until everyone else accepted the truth of it.

Laura shook her head, "You know we have no solid proof, nothing that can be brought to the sheriff at least. Nothing that will stick or be admissible in court."

"Like it would do any good," Conrad snorted.

Stiles opened his mouth to defend his dad, but Laura jumped in again. "We know he's on our side, Con, which is why he isn't on the council, but we've also never been able to track down the hunters who committed the murders. They're from out of town, they were hired, maybe they were killed, too, we don't know."

"We know someone with intimate knowledge of the solstice run organized the hits," he argued, "This is a closed festival, no outsider can participate. That implies someone from Beacon Hills organized it.”

"The council," Oscar said and Eudora nodded in agreement.

Talia held up her hand and they all grew quiet. "We can't be certain," she said with clear reluctance. "We don't even know if they're going to initiate a summoning, or when. Right now we just have assumptions and conjecture."

"We know they've taken more omegas," Conrad argued, "they're clearly gearing up to something."

"More omegas?" Stiles asked. He'd definitely missed that part.

Talia's hand dropped to the back of Derek's neck. "Yes, Stiles, more of your classmates have been taken since your escape."

"Scott?" He said, even though a part of him would rather not know, would rather not imagine his best friend, his only friend, terrified and frantic.

Talia nodded.

It felt like the world had tipped sideways and only Stiles could feel it. Like he was the only one who cared enough to feel and that was just so _wrong_. How could they be so _calm_ when Stiles' reality was crumbling around him? How could they just sit there when Scott was in danger?

“Would you like for someone to fetch your blanket?” Talia said evenly, but he could see the veins protruding on the arm that held her son.

Stiles felt the chest-tightening burn for a half second before he forced it down. He took a deep, slow breath and released it through his nose. “No, thank you,” he said through his teeth. Then, when he was certain he wasn’t in danger of growling at the alpha matriarch again, he continued with more poise as he looked her in the eyes, “I appreciate your attentiveness, I really do, but I’m allowed to be upset about this. They, the hunters or the council or whoever, have over two dozen of my classmates in captivity, including my best friend and packmate, who is already pre-bonded to a nice beta. I don’t want to be soothed or cuddled or shushed and told to go meditate away my anger. I want to fix this.”

“So do we,” Derek said quietly.

Eudora clapped a hand on the hard swell of her nephew’s shoulder, near where Talia still had a hold of him like he was a wayward cub, “And we will," she said, "but we need to remain rational while doing so.” While the words could have been meant for Stiles, he probably needed to hear them, he had the impression she was talking more to Derek.

"You are entitled to your emotions," Talia said to both Derek and Stiles. She didn't hide who her words were intended for. "But are we not also allowed free agency?" That was directed to Stiles, her eyes trained on him and just a touch less hypnotic than her son's.

Stiles nodded slowly, "Of course you are, everyone should have control over their own lives, minds and bodies."

Talia nodded, "But what if one person expresses themselves in a way that prevents another from exercising that free will?"

She wasn't just talking about the summoning, which was a gross breach of an omega's basic right to having physical free agency. Stiles thought about I and allowed the anger that had been simmering inside of him to abate.

Taking that as a signal to continue, she did. "Are you familiar with bloodlust, or have the schools failed us again?"

"Both," Stiles said, "I know about it from my mother's books, from the archives before they burned."

She waved her hand in a _go on_ motion. The others settled a bit where they sat, except Derek, who looked like there was a metal rod shove up his butt.

"Bloodlust, also known as alpha madness, occurs when an omega in distress triggers a violent biochemical reaction in an alpha's brain that causes them to lose all rationally and attack any perceived enemy without regard, until such a time as they are either killed or pacified by an omega, most commonly their mate. While under the influence, the alpha will attack their own kind, even their own pack, and any beta seen as a threat, but there are no cases of omega injury directly attributed to the alpha's violence."

"Very good. How long do you think it would take you and Mark to talk down all six of us?"

Long enough for them to run to town and start tearing out the throats of the council members, he bet.

"Too long," he said, voice quiet with understanding. Just as he'd helped Mark sooth the alphas, earlier, he still had a great deal of influence over the collective mood, and allowing himself to focus on his anger and revenge plots while in their company removed their ability to think rationally, too caught up in his violent emotions.

“Regardless, that still doesn’t change our plans, we know who's behind this," Conrad said, drawing the alpha’s attention back to whatever else Stiles had missed while cleaning.

"We don't know," Derek protested, but even without the ability to hear his heartbeat, Stiles could tell it was a lie.

"We know," Laura said with an irrefutable finality. But when she looked at her brother there was a kind of sadness in her eyes Stiles hadn't seen before.

He had most certainly missed something, but then Mark got his attention and they began dishing up the salads and the rest of the conversation was too quiet for Stiles to pick up. He didn't mind it too much, he was too busy worrying about Scott while trying not to exude his feelings all over the place.

Oscar and Conrad found pants and shirts at some point, and helped Stiles and Mark dish up the bowls of strawberry shortcake and juggle the plates of salad.

It seemed they'd come to the collective agreement that none of Talia’s revelations would impact their otherwise peaceful dinner together, since none of them knew what the next day would bring, anyway. It worked for Stiles, the temporary forgetting, even It made him feel guilty about not immediately _doing_ something to help Scott. Whatever that might be. He knew how bad things were, he didn’t need to dwell on how it could, and probably would, be even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know self-deprecating Stiles pisses off some of you, so have some more!   
> But salient plot points make up for it, maybe?
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely comments! It's thrilling to know this is being read and (possibly) enjoyed.


	15. Chapter 15

They ate dinner outside, under a waxing moon and a sky full of stars. They lit candles and torches, their eyes flashing eerily when the light hit their _tapetum lucidum_ just so in the darkness, giving the night an air of enchantment and mystery as they used their hands and teeth to tear into the warm, bloody steaks. No one spoke and the non-silence of the thrumming forest played like a living symphony around them as they ate and drank their fill, watching fireflies light up in the yard until it looked like the stars were falling to the earth around them.

Stiles often found himself feeling pressured to speak, to _speak up_ and show that omegas weren't just submissive, that they _had_ opinions and complex thoughts and points of view even beyond what betas thought was appropriate. He was pretty sure his teachers just chalked his openness up to him being slightly defective, or that his talkative nature was a byproduct of childhood trauma, but Stiles was just opinionated and he owned that about himself. He liked to think and wonder and conjecture about the world around him, but in the dark, surrounded by fireflies and the Hales, Stiles let his wolf push until it was just under the surface, until his mouth flooded with saliva at the scent of the rare steak and the scent of the pack lulled him into an almost thought-free void.

As the night breeze picked up and the air grew slightly colder, causing the flames to hiss and flicker, Stiles found himself filled with an inexplicable warmth. It began in his core and slowly radiated out to his limbs until his fingertips were tingling with it. At first he attributed it to the candle sitting on the table between him and Derek, or to the halos of heat coming from the torches lit around them, but then he felt trickles of sweat running down his sides and an all-too-familiar twist in his gut.

At once the evening’s peace was shattered for Stiles, and he realized with a sick sense of dawning horror that he hadn’t taken his suppressors since the morning of the kidnapping. The suppressors that helped regulate his hormone production to reduce the intensity and longevity of his heats. His heat that, apparently, had come on nearly a week early, likely due to his stress and the fact that his hormones were suddenly uninhibited by the drugs.

Derek was the first of the Hales to notice the sickly sweet honeysuckle scent that was the first external indicator of Stiles’ burgeoning fertility. His nostrils flared as suddenly red eyes focused on Stiles’ chest where his heart was thudding double-time from the sudden surge of fear and embarrassment and want. But then Derek looked up and into Stiles' eyes. Despite the terror and mortification he felt, in that singular moment Stiles experienced a connection with the unmated alpha that served to loosened the ratcheting tension inside of him. He lowered his gaze in acceptance. Relieved.

Derek’s muscles tensed to pounce, at least Stiles heat-heavy brain hoped that was his intention, but Talia reacted instantaneously, grabbing her son by the throat with a clawed hand and dragging him backward off the bench and onto the grass with an authoritative warning growl. Oscar and Laura were immediately on him as well, holding down his contorting limbs as he howled in outrage, calling out to Stiles to come to him.

Stiles was airborne a moment later, but it was involuntary and in the wrong direction, away from Derek instead of toward him to help fend off the meddling alphas. Mark and Eudora’s hands gripped him tightly, one clasped tight across his mouth to keep him from returning Derek's call, or to beckon the alpha to his side. Stiles was carried around to the side of the house, Conrad leading the way in the dark. A moment later Stiles heard a familiar hiss and then a cascade of icy water sucked the breath from his lungs.

“What?” he managed to sputter, mind suddenly, achingly clear as they continued to spray him with the hose, and as he tried to bat the water away from his face he realized what had almost just transpired. By lowering his gaze, Stiles had signaled his acceptance of Derek’s initial proposal and had begun the short wolfish negotiations that would have quickly led to him allowing the alpha to _claim him_ , right there in front of the other Hales as if the two of them were nothing more than animals in rutt.

“ _What the hell_?” he asked again, but it was a rhetorical question. One he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Actually, he was pretty sure he did know the answer, but it was far too uncomfortable to contemplate.

Stiles had never let himself get so out of control before. Well, he had never really had the opportunity since most of his classes were omega-only and he hadn’t had much close contact with alphas since he hit puberty. Betas didn’t produce the same kind of urges in him, not like the whole Scott and Allison debacle, probably due to his low receptivity to their particular pheromones. That was a good thing, really, since a majority of the teaching staff was composed of betas and he didn’t need any _more_ embarrassment in his life. But perhaps most importantly, he had always felt the warning symptoms early enough to know it was time to have his dad lock him in the heat chamber for the duration. None of his previous heats had had such a sudden onset from the first symptom to his inevitable mindless urge to be mounted, to submit, and to claim. At least the frigid water had worked to quell both his mind and his half-hard dick.

It was a very small conciliation.

The discordant sounds of growling coming from the backyard had stopped, and after the three Hales had made sure Stiles wasn’t going to try to beg someone, Derek, to _take him_ like he was in a cheesy dynamics porno, they brought him back around the house. The other alphas were already gone, either inside or for a run to burn off Derek’s aggressive energy, Stiles wasn’t sure. A part of him hoped it was the latter because he wasn’t certain how much self-control he had left when it came to the unbonded alpha, impromptu cold shower or not, and he knew the current clear-minded shame he felt wasn’t going to last the night, or probably even the hour. Not around Derek, at least.

Mark and Stiles entered through the mud room, Eudora preceding them into the house while Conrad waited outside on the porch, probably to stand guard or warn the other alphas off or maybe to have a good laugh about Stiles' unfortunate predicament. Mark helped Stiles strip off the wet clothes and wrapped a towel around him with a gentle smile.

“I don’t suppose you expected to end the evening by going into heat, huh?” he asked softly.

Stiles’ barked laugh had a slightly manic edge, “No, no I really didn’t. I can’t believe I forgot to take my suppressors, though, that’s just so dumb. I never forget. Not even once since I first started taking them. Why would I forget now, when I’m literally _surroundedby alphas_?” He could feel tears of frustration burning in his eyes.

Mark quickly wrapped him in a hug, the omega’s skin felt blissfully cool against the steady burning coming from within Stiles. He groaned and sank into the embrace, trying to sap some of the coolness from Mark in order to prolong his mental clarity for as long as he possibly could.

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Mark whispered against his damp hair, “We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

Despite the ambiguity of that statement, Stiles felt inexplicably comforted, not caring if it was from the other omega’s mood-sharing or just because Stiles saw him as somewhat of a friend. A moment, or an hour, later Conrad walked in and must have signaled to Mark because Stiles found himself being half-led, half-carried further into the house.

When they got to the living room Eudora was already there with Stiles’ fur blanket and a clean pair of boxers for him to wear. She and Conrad went back the way he’d come while Mark helped Stiles lift his unsteady legs one at a time and wrestle the silky fabric up to settle the elastic band over his hips. The blanket had just been wrapped around his shoulders in place of the towel when the rest of the Hales entered from the back of the house.

Derek looked a bit lost, his hair disheveled and his clothing torn in ragged strips that spoke of claws and frantic fighting. There wasn’t any blood visible on him, but Stiles knew that when alphas healed their blood tended to be drawn back into their bodies, so any minor damage wouldn’t be visible after the fact. He didn’t smell any blood, either, but when he took another deep breath he caught the clean-forest-rain scent that sent a jolt like a lightening strike through his entire body.

Derek smelled _right_.

Before anyone could move or speak, Talia clapped her hands once, loudly enough to jar Stiles from his rapidly scattering thoughts. "We'll have to do it tonight," she said, like Stiles knew what she was talking about. The others did, apparently, because they began _taking off their clothes_ like that was a normal thing to do in a room full of family.

He made a choked noise in response, but couldn’t formulate any real words to express how profoundly bizarre he found their behavior.

"We're going to scent you before your heat completely takes over," Laura said casually, tossing her dress over the back of the couch and standing there proudly in her matching light blue bra and underwear, like she was as comfortable regardless. Not that she had any _reason_ to be uncomfortable with such a strong and capable body, but still.

Her statement gave him a kind of explanation, but it still didn’t make much _sense_.

Stiles knew about scenting, of course, that much was universal among the types. Scent marking was part of why he and his dad hugged all the time, why Scott bumped shoulders with him when they hung out together and why Melissa ruffled his hair even though it was technically too short _to_ ruffle. Scent-touching was an integral part of pack life, it served to mark each person’s membership in that specific biological or chosen family and was even important in terms of settling disputes and identifying moods and the overall health of each member. By scenting him, the Hales were willingly taking on his unique essence as much as they were sharing theirs with him. Their actions served to forge a stronger connection with Stiles that was normally reserved for blood relatives, close friends, and mates. All of that, Stiles knew, but his familial hugs and back pats had never involved parties stripping down to their underwear.

Maybe it was an alpha thing?

A _Hale_ thing?

The coffee table was moved off to one side and the fireplace lit, producing a kind of dramatic setting that reminded him of their interrupted dinner, but was much more intimate in the enclosed space of the living room. Conrad and Oscar were already down to their briefs as they grabbed pillows from the couch and began throwing them in a pile in the center of the room while Eudora arranged them and an armful of blankets on the floor to make a large and comfortable-looking bed.

Stiles felt like he was trapped in honey, mind sticky slow as he tried to comprehend what was happening as the Hales moved in a skin-colored blur to create their plush cuddle-nest. It certainly began to look appealing to the part of his omega nature that loved soft things and reveled in burrowing under blankets and making pillow forts. The longer he stood there, half-aware and heat-warmed, the more it seemed like the most comfortable place in the world to be scented by so many strong alphas.

His brow furrowed at the errant thoughts.

_Strong alphas_?

Wait.

“Scent me?” he heard himself say, as if from a distance.

Mark was suddenly there in front of him, cold hands framing Stiles’ too-hot cheeks, no doubt flushed and splotchy like he was prone to get when embarrassed or excited or warm. “We’re going to take care of you, Stiles, but you’re going to have to trust us. Your heat is starting and we need to scent you to make sure you’re safe, here, with us. Do you understand?”

Not exactly, but he nodded anyway. But then it felt like his head was going to disconnect from his body if he kept moving it, so he stopped and carefully moved his eyes to look around at where the alphas were converging on him. Everyone had stripped down to their skivvies and there were suddenly miles of scantily clad flesh surrounding him, touching him, drawing him closer and down into the nest, dragging the exquisitely silky fur down his arms and legs so they could wrap their own around him in a living blanket of blessedly cool skin.

He didn’t protest as they arranged his body under, over, and around theirs until it seemed like every inch of him was covered in Hale. Their skin was soft and their scent summer-thick as they all settled into a steadily breathing mass, occasionally growling their contentment or wiggling to get closer.

The night proceeded in snatches, for Stiles. Perfect clips and portraits of experience to be examined and catalogued with a scientific exactness when his mind was up to the task at some distant future date. It was not at all the pornographic spectacle he’d half-hoped, half-feared; it was more like an enhanced version of Talia’s hug from the night before, or the memory of his mother’s cuddles and of Mark’s embrace mixed with Scott’s shoulder bumps, all mixed together and amplified to the point of piercing wonder and senseless contentment.

If Talia’s previous touch had made him feel undone, this tangle of limbs and cool flesh made Stiles’ mind and body utterly pliant, overcome by the feeling of exposure, of being reduced as if he were a solution held over a flame. Stiles was a flame, he was flaming hot, _burning_ from the inside like a star.

“You’re fine, Stiles,” a voice grunted from somewhere to his left. A male voice, but there were too many options to choose from, to attempt an accurate guess.

“Oscar,” the voice said, this time less sleep-heavy and more amused, like someone had said something funny.

But how had he known Stiles was pondering his identity?

“You’re saying everything out loud. This is Eudora, by the way.” She was definitely amused and he really needed to just stop thinking.

“You can’t though, can you? You’re like a shark. If they stop swimming they drown, but if you stop thinking, what? Does your brain stop working?”

“Laura,” Stiles guessed. Of course she’d think something like that.

“ _Of course_? What does _that_ mean?” She protested, but then there was the soft crack of flesh striking flesh and she squawked.

“It’s his first scenting, child, let him be,” Talia said and he could hear Laura grumble in reply, but she didn’t comment again.

“Why does it feel so strange?” he asked, making sure he said it out loud even though that didn’t actually seem to be his current problem. His mind had never felt so distant when he touched his pack.

Something shifted underneath him and something cold, a hand, pressed against his forehead and slid down his cheek, leaving a chilled trail that made Stiles’ breath catch in his throat. He leaned into the touch with a hum.

“We’re sharing our scent with you, and with that our pheromones,” the firm flesh beneath him rumbled as the voice spoke, “You’ve never done this before with this many people, this many alphas, at once, so it may feel overwhelming at times. Just remember that if you’re unsure or frightened, that you can hold onto me or one of the others and we’ll take care of you. Nothing is going to harm you, here.”

Derek.

“Yes?” The voice said again. The hand slid around to grip the back of his neck, a thumb tapping lightly on his jugular; it felt like every muscle in Stiles’ body loosened at once and he sank against cool skin, feeling his cheek grow less blazingly hot with the touch.

“You’re Derek,” Stiles felt obligated to point out, like if he didn’t one or all of them would forget.

“Never stops thinking,” Laura’s voice muttered and he swore he heard Conrad giggle.

 

The next flash of consciousness Stiles had was accompanied by the sensation of floating as he stared up at the wooden beams of the ceiling and a weird angle of Derek’s face, his expression pained as he moved them with lupine grace toward their destination. Stiles’ half-closed eyes snapped open as he felt the easy steps become jarring and a change in lighting and scent that spoke of _down_ and then _basement_.

“What?” he asked, feeling like he’d said that already, but couldn’t quite remember when, or what the answer had been.

Derek glanced down at him, the movement temporarily stopped and his hazel eyes showed concern and fatigue.

“Go back to sleep, Stiles,” he said, voice soft and never as deep as Stiles expected from looking at his solid frame and chiseled features.

“No,” Stiles said, watching as his hand drifted up to press the wrinkled lines between Derek’s, surprisingly soft, eyebrows. He wasn’t sure if he was disagreeing with the alpha’s words or expression. Both? Wait. He wondered if Derek could still hear his thoughts.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said and they began walking again. The air was only slightly cooler than the oven upstairs and it smelled more like earth and stone.

Derek’s words made him blink and his face tried to make the same expression the alpha had been making, but he couldn’t quite seem to manage it. “How do you know I was thinking that, then?” he asked, feeling clever.

For a gloriously fleeting moment, one corner of his mouth quirked up in what could have been just a facial tic, but from the normally stoic alpha was nearly a smile.

“Don’t carry me, I’m heavy.” That wasn’t what Stiles had wanted to say, but the words were already out.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied, and turned down a darker hallway. Stiles couldn’t see much of anything, but he thought he heard Derek snort.

“I don’t,” Stiles said, sincerely. He knew his flaws, had examined them with an intensity he usually reserved for reading or pining after Lydia, and apparently Derek, now. He knew his strengths as well, though, and thought he was a pretty awesome person, overall, but he didn’t really see the point in self-flattery.

Derek’s chest vibrated with a suppressed growl. “Stiles, please don’t,” he said so quietly it would have been lost if Stiles could see. As it happened, he was hyper-focused on Derek’s voice, so he heard every whispered word.

There were a lot of things he could say in response to that half-begging plea, but he knew that sometimes talk was cheap, so he let his hand trace a path from Derek’s forehead, and down his cheek. Stiles suddenly remembered a similar touch, earlier, and smiled as he rubbed his own cheek against the hard swell of Derek’s biceps.

The growl was more of a pur, that time, and he could smell the taffy-sweet scent of Derek’s joy for an instant before it was overwhelmed by a wave of his own kind of sweetness, of the pungent floral aroma of his heat. Even in the dark he could feel the world tilt as Derek’s bare feet slapped at the stone ground with renewed speed. It didn’t even feel like the alpha was breathing as he skidded to a halt and then Stiles’ feet were falling. He yelped and reached out for Derek, the hand that had been on his cheek falling down his neck to grip his shoulder and Stiles gasped when he felt the unmistakable warm metal ridge of the collar around Derek’s throat.

“Why are you wearing that?” he said, yelled, as he felt a cold gust of air from the opened doorway behind him.

Derek didn’t answer, too busy pushing Stiles back into the softly lit room. All he said was, “I’m sorry. I can’t. You’ll be safe here.”

And then the door was closing between them and Stiles was alone with his heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self*  
> Fun fact: the working title of this story was "Heat," and still is in my google docs. Pretty awesome that it took FIFTEEN chapters to get there, huh?


	16. Chapter 16

There was good reason why filming omegas in heat was a crime. They lacked anything approaching rationality or decency when their hormones took over, flooding their brains with a potent mixture of endorphins and serotonin, a complex cocktail of half a dozen powerful neurochemicals that created an intense reaction so incredible as to be unreproducible in any lab. Having gone off the suppressors so quickly, some might say dangerously so, Stiles' heat was strong and burned through him like a living fire.

While under its unfightable sway, every second he was conscious for was reduced to intense, isolated moments in time. It lent itself to experiences that were as astonishing as they were exhausting. Every bite of food, during the rare times when he could be coaxed to eat, was the most mind blowing thing he had ever had the absolute pleasure of putting into his mouth. Every sip of water was a revelation, every whisper a symphony, every touch orgasmic.

For the most part.

He told time by the door opening and closing, when he was of a mind to notice. Sometimes one of the Hales, never Derek, would enter the room and run a damp cloth over his fevered skin, to wipe off the heat sweat and the evidence of his uncontrollable hormone-induced arousal. During such times he’d groan and writhe and pant at the scratchy touch of the washcloth, the sensation too much and not enough and then he’d be left alone again with a fresh flood of slick between his thighs and a painful ache in his re-hardened cock.

Other times one of them, not Derek, would bring him some water or a protein shake to prevent him from becoming too dehydrated from his endless heat-sweat and to quench his insatiable thirst. The first time, the liquid had been so cold it had burned his throat and he’d coughed and choked on it, frantically struggling to breath against the unexpected pain, disoriented and panicked, believing he was drowning. That was the only time he had been aware Derek was even still in the house. As he was struggling to clear his throat, to breath, he heard the alpha howl through the open door of the heat room, sounding too wolf-like to be in his human form. The call was desperate and pained, as if he were trying to get to Stiles but was prevented by the others from going down into the basement to find him. To protect him. Unable to return the howl, or to claw his way out of the iron grip Conrad had on him, Stiles was reduced to tears of frustration, coughing and sobbing and _aching_ to be claimed. Only Conrad’s reluctant command for him to _calm himself_ allowed Stiles to breath normally, again.

After that the water had been warmer and the house quiet.

He didn't remember much else besides the unrelenting desire to mate, as was normal during a heat. Though he’d never been so focused on one specific alpha, before. That seemed to make things better in terms of him not attempting to coax or beg the other alphas who tended him to mount him every time they came into the room, but Stiles was pretty sure he called out to Derek during some of the more intense moments of his unsatisfied and potent sexual urges. A part of him vaguely recognized that would undoubtedly be a cause of mortification later, when he regained his rationality, but during the moments when the orgasms rippled through him, almost of an intensity he needed, but lacking the key component of _alpha_ and _mate_ , the name Derek fell from his lips as easily as his seed pattered across his taut stomach and chest.

When the crashing waves of arousal began to dissipate and a bit of his proper functionality returned, Stiles was immediately aware of the nearly overwhelming scent of the Hale pack permeating every corner of the heat room, and by extension, himself. It was from the scenting, he knew, and from being in close proximity to them for however many days that had transpired since he'd gotten there. It was simultaneously comforting to smell of such a powerful pack and confusing not to smell like his own; of his dad, Scott, and Melissa. He _liked_ the Hales, even though they were intense at times, but his heart ached for his family, for _his_ pack.

A part of him wanted to just lay there and revel in it while he could, in the security and peace, to sink into the heady summer scent and live with it always on his fur and tongue, but there was an issue with that, he knew but didn't immediately remember. There was a nagging danger he should be considering, but he felt too post-heat mellow to immediately recall what it was. He didn’t want to forgo the peace of the moment, but knew that existing in a false reality of Hale-scented contentment would only lead to more trouble down the line. He was normally all-for ignoring a problem until it went away, but something about the feeling in his gut told him this wasn’t one of those circumstances. Slowly, he evened his breathing and allowed his mind to drift into its darker corners, to where his fear and dread lived.

_The kidnapping_ , he remembered with stark clarity, which led to the hunters and inevitably the council and their likely decision to hold a summoning, and with it the run. He remembered Scott, taken and hidden away somewhere, afraid and in danger while Stiles lounged in the security of the Hale home, surrounded by the pack and their welcoming scent.

Stiles closed his eyes and tried not to hate himself for just wanting to stay there, taken care of and content, but he had never been good at lying to himself when it really mattered.

He sighed long and deep and noticed another smell, the pungent wilted flower scent of his spent heat. Looking down, his skin was speckled with dried come and the fine white crust of his natural lubricant that slicked his passage when he was aroused.

“Ugh, gross,” he whispered, voice hoarse from thirst and probably screaming.

_Derek_ , he remembered having shouted during more than one climax, the name sounding right on his lips, an invitation and a promise.

_Awesome_.

Because he needed more reasons to feel embarrassed when surrounded by the impossibly capable alphas of the Hale pack. Not that they’d hold his heat-driven confessions against him, or anything. They didn’t seem the type to rub salt in that particular _you’re a weak omega incapable of controlling himself_ wound, like some of the more obnoxious alphas and betas he knew. Harris could certainly benefit from Hale lessons. Maybe they’d hold an assembly at school; _How to treat an omega like a person instead of just a leaking sack of volatile hormones_.

Stiles would pay to see that.

With a tired sigh he cleaned himself as best he could in the small attached half-bathroom, though he’d have to at least take a shower to really get the stink out of his skin. A long soak in a bath would be better. For the first time he really saw the heat room while in this right mind. It was simple, yet functional; a low bed, sheets rumpled and that probably needed to be burned given their stiff state after what Stiles had subjected them to, a chair off to one side where someone could sit and either watch or tend to his needs. He had vague recollections of seeing all of the alphas but Laura and Derek during his short moments of clarity, though he imagined he was largely insensate for the days it took the heat to ravish him.

There was a clean pair of shorts on the chair and he gladly put them on, his own were tangled somewhere in the sheets where he’d kicked them off with Oscar’s help. He stopped for a moment, then, and allowed himself the luxury of remembering when he’d first put that pair on, of the scenting and Derek’s strong hand clasped on the back of his neck, anchoring Stiles as he burrowed against Derek’s cool chest and breathed in his unique _forest after a rain_ scent. That was the only time he’d let himself think about it, he decided. It simply wasn’t worth the inevitable confusion and pain, otherwise. Or the glass shard feeling of hope.

Hormone-driven delusions were one thing, but allowing those delusions to interfere with his relationship with the Hales was unacceptable. Of course Derek was attracted to an unmated, untouched omega who was suffering the effects of a sudden, unmedicated heat. An omega who had been literally draped across Derek's exquisite body and smelled fertile and ripe for the taking, who had submitted, who had called out to him repeatedly. The attraction was inevitable. It was basic biology. That didn't mean Derek actually liked _him_.

_He never told you to shut up_ , a traitorous part of his mind reminded him. _He wore a collar for you_.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. If Derek was actually interested in him post-heat, and not just when he forgot his suppressors, then Stiles might believe the alpha was serious about his red-eyed proposal over dinner. But until then, Stiles was determined to ignore his own feelings and treat Derek like any of the other Hales. He wasn't eager to go on another pining jag, not now that he had apparently gotten over Lydia.

_Huh_.

To his utter surprise the door that led from the room into the basement was unlocked. He wasn’t entirely certain about the Hale’s post-heat protocol. At home, when he had finally finished turning the sheets sticky, his dad had always drawn him a bath, with bubbles, and prepared a meal bland enough for Stiles to stomach after his days of little or no food. Then Stiles had always checked in with Scott online and slept for about twelve hours or so, until he felt like a real person again and not scraped raw and aching in a way entirely different from his heat; muscles sore and mind oddly focused after so long adrift.

Stiles explored, not quite up to facing the Hales just yet, needing to regain his equilibrium through some quiet contemplation. The basement was extensive, more so than even the large house would have led him to think. There were several other heat rooms besides the one he occupied, a kind of larder where they kept freezers full of meat and canisters of freeze-dried food. Adjacent to that was a smaller room with a complete deer-skinning and preparation setup, easily aired out with the aid of a high window and a fan. He wasn’t exactly looking for anything as he found the basement’s mud room through the next door, complete with a shower and a door to the outside, though it didn’t have the same flap at the bottom as the one upstairs, so it was meant more for the Hales in their human forms than as wolves. There was another door off of that room, one he suspected was where Eudora kept her cures, if the faint traces of herbs were anything to go by.

“That’s where we keep the dead bodies,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind him.

Stiles whirled with a startled, “Huh?” to face a male his height, but of a stronger build. It took him a moment, but when he breathed in and really looked, it was obvious who he was. Derek might have gotten his mother’s hazel eyes, but his eyebrows and strong jaw came from his father, as did his astonishing musculature. “Andrew,” he said, surprised.

“Indeed,” Andrew Hale said with a hint of a smirk. Stiles could tell that was what the expression was only because of his practice reading Derek. “It appears you’re the omega who has been making use of our heat chamber these last six days.”

Six days? That was a full day longer than his usual cycle, probably due to its sudden onset and the close proximity of an unmated alpha.

“Yes, I- thank you for allowing me to stay during my heat, everyone here has treated me so kindly,” it was polite to compliment the head omega on the manners of the wolves under his care, right? Stiles thought he’d learned something like that in school. Regardless, he figured it couldn’t hurt. “I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski.”

“The sheriff’s son,” Andrew said with an assessing look.

Stiles could only imagine what he looked like to Andrew, he certainly smelled like he’d just gone through a heat, or a one-man orgy. At least he’d tried to scrub off the worst it before he’d gone exploring.

Andrew breathed out an almost-laugh. “Stiles isn’t your real name, though, not that I blame you for choosing to be called that, given the alternative.”

He felt his heart kick up a bit and his eyes narrowed. “How do you know my real name?” It wasn’t as if it were a huge secret, but as far as Stiles was aware, only a handful of people had ever bothered to look through his official record to find out.

“I was there when you were born,” Andrew said slowly, seemingly confused by _Stiles_ ’ confusion, which only served to confuse him even _more_.

“You knew my mother, too?” he asked, “Talia mentioned being friends with her, but she didn’t say anything about knowing or seeing me before she found me in the woods.” Sure, he knew his dad was on friendly terms with the Hales, but until Talia had told Stiles about her friendship with his mother, he’d never known the extent of their relationship.

Andrew’s eyebrows raised, “Hm, it seems you’ve been given an incomplete account. Interesting. Well, who am I to meddle with my mate’s storytelling? I’m sure she had a reason for conveying her version of events as she did. Well, now that you’re up and about, why don’t we find you some clean clothing and get you washed up properly?”

“Ah, but why deprive us of such a delectable scent, Andrew?” a new voice said, deep and amused.

And _creepy_.

Andrew rolled his eyes and moved slightly to the side, revealing another muscled man, his brown hair combed back and a carefully groomed goatee on his chin. “Honestly, Peter, one day someone is going to take your inappropriate teasing to heart and _then_ where will you be? In a jail cell, no doubt. Leave the boy alone, he just woke from his heat.”

“I can smell that,” Peter Hale said, lifting his head to scent the air.

It was disturbing, but the omega part of his brain, still recovering from constantly swimming in the potent hormone soup for the past six days, was wagging its tail at the attention being paid him by the unmated alpha.

He clenched his fists to remind himself that he could, that he was in control of his body and, maybe to a slightly lesser extent, his emotions. “You know my dad’s the sheriff, right?” he said with an ease he did't feel, “He’s the one with the keys to those jail cells.”

Peter laughed loudly, throwing his head back in a way that intentionally drew attention to the bare lines of his muscular neck. Uncollared, like Derek had been when they’d first met in the woods.

Stiles was not ready to keep up this kind of conversation, feeling weak-kneed from a scant diet for the past almost-week and the lingering bone weariness from the heat. The last thing he wanted was to talk to a flirtatious alpha in front of his crush’s father, who may have even heard him screaming his son’s name over the past few days. It was all a bit much to handle. He had to do something, anything to change the topic.

“Wait, dead bodies? You were just joking about that, right?” he waved a hand at the door he’d been about to open and Andrew smirked.

“Don’t worry, that room’s just full of the poisonous plants Eudora and Nancy use to make antidotes and medicines for us.”

“Oh, yeah, she smeared some on Derek and me the other day,” Stiles said, eager to continue the new line of conversation.

Andrew nudged Peter with his elbow and the alpha left them with a parting wink at Stiles. “Which was it? Pink? Green with black speckles?”

“It was some vile-smelling purple goop,” Stiles said, allowing Andrew to take him by the arm and lead them both out the door and up a flight of stairs leading outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Peter, you total creeper.


	17. Chapter 17

The house sounded empty when they entered through the front door, Andrew talked amiably about the trip to the lake and seeing his parents. He drew Stiles’ bath himself, in his and Talia’s bathroom, selecting a neutral-smelling soap to help eliminate the heat-stink Stiles had going on. He left briefly and Stiles sank into the hot water with a grateful sigh. When Andrew returned he had a neat pile of clothes under one arm and a water bottle in his other hand.

“I would advise you to ignore Peter’s insinuations,” he said, handing over the bottle, “but I’m sure you figured that out, already. He’s torn between wanting to participate in the run this year and being angry with the council for holding it early despite the omegas missing.”

Stiles took a gulp of the water to give him time to organize his thoughts. “So they’re still going through with it, then? What about the _summoning_? Talia mentioned that might be a possible way for the council to draw my classmates out from wherever the hunters are holding them.” Among other things.

Andrew sat on the closed toilet and looked at his hands, broad and veined like his son’s, not that Stiles had studied Derek’s hands that extensively, or anything because that would be creepy. Right?

_Right_.

“They haven’t made a decision on that, yet. Your father is doing what he can to persuade them not to, mostly to protect you and by extension us, but he doesn’t want the council to grow suspicious as to why he’s not frantic with worry about his only son’s apparent kidnapping. John’s a good actor, though, he’s doing a fair job of not drawing unwanted attention to himself, so you needn’t be concerned.”

Like _that_ was possible, but Stiles appreciated the sentiment.

“What happens if they do decide to summon us? From what I’ve read it’s not like I’ll be able to resist, at least not for long.”

The stories always had the summoned omega tearing through chains or beating down walls to get to their pack. They almost always shifted to wolf form to speed the inevitable frantic flight, unheeding of any distraction, able to overcome nearly every obstacle, mindless in their determination to reach their pack. If his dad and Melissa called him like that, Stiles would be powerless to do anything other than go to them.

Andrew nodded, “I know, we’re thinking about it. Conrad’s suspicious of the council’s apparent lack of interest in your disappearance, in particular. He’s convinced they know you’re here, or at least not with the hunters, so he thinks they’ll have you summoned first, as a test.”

Which would mean he’d race into town smelling like the Hales.

“Wait, then all they’ll have to do is sniff me and then they’ll blame all of the kidnappings on your family,” Stiles said, heart lurching.

The other omega settled back with his hands laced behind his head, looking utterly unconcerned. “That they will, if Conrad’s right in his assumption.”

How was Andrew not freaking out about this?

Stiles asked, incredulous, and Andrew _shrugged_ in reply. “We don’t know that’s what the council is planning. All we know is that there’s to be a run in a handful of days, and that the omegas who are currently in captivity will likely be there to participate, one way or another.”

“And me?” Stiles had to ask.

Andrew shrugged again, “And you, if you want to join them, or if you’re summoned.”

He said it like either option was as valid as the other. The difference between free choice and the equivalent of being collared and forced into wolf form, to have his entire future decided for him by someone else. Stiles couldn’t help but stare, feeling the reawakening of distrust churn inside of him, like when he had gotten suspicious of the Hales after his first night there. If Andrew was so laissez faire about Stiles’ freedom, what was to say he wouldn’t just _give_ Stiles to the council to prevent his family’s involvement from being discovered.

But if he _was_ summoned, _holy_ \- “Scott would feel the pull of the summoning, too, wouldn’t he? Maybe that’s why the council hasn’t reached a decision, yet. If they’re really in league with the hunters and they have my dad and Melissa call out for us and we both show up smelling like different places, different wolves, that will only confuse everyone.” And would probably not lead to council-sanctioned wholesale slaughter of the Hales. If they were lucky.

“If he has a strong pre-bond, or if he completed the claim with his beta girlfriend he might not feel compelled to answer the call,” Andrew pointed out. “But enough about that,” he decided with a sniff, dismissing the topic with a casual wave, “I hear you’ve read quite extensively from the archives.”

Stiles nodded, grateful for the change in topic, but still feeling unbalanced by the other omega’s casual attitude toward Stiles’ potential future as an unwilling runner, and of the possible threat to his family. “Yeah, when my mom was alive she used to let me read anything in the library.”

“Then you know the story of Marus and Lux?”

The names sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t immediately recall their story. He shook his head and took another swig of the water.

“Well, I’m no storyteller, that’s my mate’s talent, but I’ll give you the summary. Marus was an alpha, Lux an omega. They were pre-bonded, it was an arrangement made by their parents when both were children. One day a beta came to town and decided he wanted Lux for himself. Common trend in stories like this, I know. He captured Lux, but didn’t claim him, and locked the omega in a tower to keep him out of the way, hidden from everyone. They searched and searched, but none of the wolves in town could find him. Marus was heartbroken that his potential mate had run from him, because that’s what it looked like had happened.”

Stiles was starting to recognize the story, or one similar to it. He wasn’t sure why Andrew was telling him, though.

“Eventually, Lux’s family and intended decided to howl together, to see if they could at least hear his answering call and figure out his location. Their cries pierced the night like shattering glass, and, compelled by their summons, Lux leapt from the tower. The fall was far, however, and he broke his hind legs when he hit the ground in his wolf form. The beta found him before he could drag himself to his family and, seeing the beta as an obstacle to be overcome, Lux tore the meddler’s throat out with his teeth. When he finally reached Marus and the others he was more dead than alive, but a quick mating claim helped cured his ailments and the two lived a long and complete life.”

“The first summoning,” Stiles said, fingers ghosting over the water to create gentle ripples.

“Indeed.”

That still didn’t explain why Andrew had told him the story, but the omega seemed like kind of a strange guy, so maybe that was explanation enough. Though Stiles found it oddly amusing that Talia had been less cryptic than her husband. He rested his head back against the tub and replayed the pertinent points of the conversation to try to sort out what it was that Andrew was actually telling him and came to an abrupt, terrible realization.

The only way to prevent a summons from compelling an omega was if someone had a more powerful claim over them. The call of his family could only be ignored if he were mated, which would make his mate’s family a part of his pack as well. Andrew had postulated the same with Scott’s situation; that if he and Allison had claimed each other like Stiles suspected would happen sooner rather than later, then if she wasn’t part of the summoning he might not feel the bone-deep urge to seek out his mother and the sheriff, since they were no longer a majority of his pack. Allison and the Argents would be his pack, too.

Was it possible that Andrew was planning to mate Stiles to Derek, or to Peter, in order to circumvent the summons and to keep the Hales from being dragged into the mess with the hunters and the council? Was _that_ why he had acted so unaffected by the justifiably panic-worthy situation?

Stiles glanced up at the other omega, but Andrew gave nothing away, casually leaning against the back of the toilet, studying the wallpaper across from them. He sank further into the water, until just the oval of his face was exposed, and tried not to project his concern.

 

Ava was everything Stiles had imagined, a pixy of a girl with wild dark hair and large brown eyes flecked with gold. She stared up at him for a half second before squealing so loudly he was pretty sure she would have pierced his ear drums if he had been an alpha.

“STILES!” she screamed, and launched herself against his legs, wrapping her surprisingly strong limbs around him.

“Uh,” he said, but then heard a laugh from down the hall and looked up.

Derek was standing just outside his door, arms crossed over his chest in a way that unfairly accentuated all of his many glorious muscles, even through the pale blue henley. Especially so, really. “That’s her standard greeting, right now. We always know who she’s with because she likes to yell their name and latch onto them until she finds her next victim. Want me to take her?” He looked good, rested, and blessedly without the collar. If Stiles hadn’t been so convinced he’d felt it that first night of his heat, he would have thought it had been a hallucination, along with Derek’s parting plea.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ve got some experience with kids. You know, mandatory summer jobs,” he waved his hand in a vague gesture for no apparent reason and forced himself to focus on the tiny omega. “What’s up, Ava. Hey, thanks for letting me use your room, your bed’s pretty comfy.”

She looked up at him with what he was beginning to suspect were permanently wide eyes, and a hopeful expression. “Did you like the stars? I made Derek and Laura do them for me.”

“What else are siblings for, right? Yeah, I liked them a lot. Did you know that my all time favorite story is the one about Arion and Emis?”

Ava’s eyes got impossibly _wider_ , like a _cartoon character_ and it made Stiles bite back a huge grin so she wouldn’t think he was laughing at her. Derek had no such reservations because he chuckled from where he was still standing there with all the casualness of someone who was perfectly comfortable lurking in hallways watching his little sister do her best impression of a koala on unsuspecting omegas.

She ignored her brother and stared up at Stiles, open-mouthed. “That’s _my_ favorite story,” she said with wonder.

“Well, I guess we’re just destined to be best friends, then,” Stiles said with a dramatic shrug.

Ava giggled and wiggled her way up his body until he finally got the hint and lifted her up so he could wrap his arms around her properly. Her face was level with his shoulder and she immediately used it to rest her head against. “Tell me the story, Stiles?” she said softly and he knew she had him exactly where she wanted him. Pliant and eager to do her bidding, no doubt like every other member of the Hale household.

Derek was _giggling_ , one hand over his mouth as his body trembled.

_Asshole_ , Stiles mouthed at him, but he knew he’d do what Ava wanted because she was very clearly the Hale in charge. It wasn’t even a dynamics thing, it was a _her_ thing.

It looked like Derek was going to burst something at any moment, which just shouldn’t look that attractive, but it somehow did. Stiles glared one more time at him, then smiled sweetly at the manipulative little omega, “I would love to tell you the story, Ava, but don’t you think Derek should join us? I bet he does awesome sound effects!”

She lit up like a freaking sparkler. “He does!” she half-screamed, throwing up her hands and waving them at her oldest brother. “Derek you _have_ to come help Stiles tell the story!”

Which was how Stiles found himself shoulder to shoulder with Derek, sitting on his little sister’s bed with their backs against the painted wall and Ava stretched out across both their laps so she could see the constellations painted on the ceiling. She wiggled one more time, then seemed to settle.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m ready.”

Stiles glanced over at Derek, but the alpha had his _super casual_ expression on, so Stiles couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

_Jerk_.

“Alright, let’s start this thing,” Stiles said, it had been a while since he’d heard the story, since before his mom’s death, but it really was one of his favorites.

“There once was an,” he said, but was immediately interrupted.

“No, not like that! Start it the other way,” Ava said.

_The other way_? What _other_ way?

Derek raised one of his stupid eyebrows at Stiles and he barely kept himself from sticking out his tongue in response. _Other way_. Probably the way Talia started her fairy tales, like when she’d told him that Beacon Hills foundation story. He could do that.

“Okay, sorry about that, back to your regularly scheduled story.”

Ava giggled, so he continued. “Once upon a time, how am I doing, good? Okay, so once upon a time, when wishes still worked and the world was balanced, there lived a handsome alpha named Arion-”

“Arion the archer,” Ava piped up.

Stiles bounced his knees under her legs, “Hey, who’s telling this story, anyway?”

She mimed zipping her lips, which was so devastatingly cute he had to, once again, fight back a giant grin. “Ehem, I believe the awesome alpha archer Arion had a horse, didn’t he? A horse who liked to make lots of horsey noises, I’m sure.” He gave Derek a pointed look and the alpha rolled his eyes.

“Subtle, Stiles,” he said, but obliged with a neigh that sounded way too practiced to be a sudden foray into foley work.

Stiles, with Derek’s sound effect expertise, got the courageous Arion past the hydra and up the gorge of forgotten arrows before they both realized Ava had passed out, head lolling back over Derek’s thigh and fingers tangled in Stiles’ shirt, where she’d grabbed him during Arion’s intense battle with hydra head number six.

“Well,” he whispered, “this doesn’t bode well for our storytelling career, if we actively put kids to sleep.”

Derek snorted softly, “She does this, sometimes, especially after she’s been excited for so long. Dad said she sang for the entire car ride home. That’s six hours.”

“I honestly don’t think I could have handled that,” he whispered, knowing Derek could hear him clearly with his freaky enhanced alpha senses. “Props to your family, dude, that had to be rough.”

“She always makes everyone sing with her,” Derek said, carding his fingers through her hair and untangling the wavy mess.

“That is pretty adorable, I’m not gonna lie.”

Derek looked sideways at him and gave a half-smile. “She’s obsessed with Disney songs.”

“And it just keeps getting better and better.” Thinking about Derek singing along to Disney, of doing the voices and sound effects and being an awesome big brother who worked knots out of his little sister’s hair so carefully that she didn’t even stir where she was stretched out over them, that was just cavity-inducing sweetness right there. “So what, now? Are we trapped here until the kraken unleashes me from her hold?”

The alpha glanced at where Ava had a deathgrip on Stiles shirt and shrugged. “She’s usually not out for long, and I could use the general peace for a little while, if you don’t mind staying.”

“You find my company peaceful?” Stiles asked, resisting the urge to drop his jaw.

Derek’s famous eyeroll was back, this time accompanied by a classic Hale short, “You clearly haven’t met Lance, Nathan, and the twins, yet. Yes, in comparison I find your company positively meditative.”

“Sounds good, let’s hold down the fort here, then.” Stiles wasn’t too good with silences, though, not when he had so many things to say. He could feel the void where he’d been insensate for those long heat days and felt the urge to fill up the potentially awkward space between the two of them with words. Words that weren’t pornographic exclamations of arousal and want. “So, uncle Peter. Creeper much?”

Derek stiffened beside him and had to stop and sooth Ava with a careful hand when she began to stir. “You met Peter? When? What did he say to you?”

Woah, _that_ didn’t sound like a completely proportional response to his casual mention, but Stiles _had_ brought it up. “Uh, when I woke up I wandered around downstairs a bit and your dad found me. Peter showed up for a minute after that.”

“And?” And _apparently_ Derek was not going to let this thing go without hearing _every freaking detail_.

Stiles flailed a hand, “And he was creepy. The end. Talked about my scent or something, I don’t know, gave off weird vibes.”

Derek’s previous ease was gone, like Stiles was the peace destroyer or something. He wondered what it would be like to perform a _peacemaking_ with Derek. Probably extremely amazing and something that was never going to happen, _ever_. But still, it was a nice thought given that he apparently sucked at calming down the alpha during normal circumstances, like when they were having a nice cuddle with his precious little sister.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Stiles insisted, putting a hand on Derek’s tense forearm. Damn, those muscles. He could feel the soft ridges of the veins under his fingers. “Can we go back to chilling out, now?” he asked.

Derek was staring at where Stiles was touching him, but when he went to lift his hand, the alpha’s arm rose with it. He forced his hand to relax and made himself not think about the warm, firm skin and the soft hair under his palm. They sat there in silence, Stiles carefully giving off some mellow vibes, not overtly, just, just casually. Like it was normal for them to bro-out together with an unconscious six year old draped over their legs.

“My dad can be pretty creepy, too,” Derek said, staring at the massive tree painted on the wall beside him. It gave Stiles an amazing view of his bare neck, of the taut cords of muscle and sinew.

When Derek’s words penetrated the fog of Stiles’ wandering thoughts, he choked back a laugh and grinned at the alpha. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but dude, what is up with that? Are you sure the two of them aren’t related because it’s like the creeper twins are in town or something. I mean, are they always weirdly cryptic or were they just messing with me?”

Derek was looking at him, again, the smirk back on his lips. “Oh, no, Laura and I think they have a contest going to see who can be more of an enigma. One year for Christmas they gave us riddles to solve and if we couldn’t figure them out they wouldn’t give us our presents. Lance cried for hours when he failed and eventually mom yelled at them and they stopped being so obnoxiously mysterious for a little while.”

“Ah, so they’re in league together, that partially explains the basement thing. They must get pretty bored or something.”

“Not when they’re scheming,” Derek said, moving his arm so he could play with Ava’s hair. Stiles let his hand drop onto where her hand was clutching his shirt, cupping it with his so it didn’t get cold. Derek carefully worked until there was an intricate braided band across the top of Ava’s head, to keep the hair from her eyes.

“Do you think I’m part of their current scheme?” Stiles asked. He was curious about Derek’s take on the whole summoning, run thing, but that didn’t seem like an appropriate topic of conversation since that they had just fallen back into apparent easy camaraderie.

Derek snorted softly, “We both are, I’m sure.”

And that wasn’t _entirely_ comforting, but at least he had good company for the time being. As long as he didn’t dwell too much on Derek’s amazing physique, or his stunning smile, or his laugh, or his ease with children,or his-

_Damnit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Stiles. What have you gotten yourself into?


	18. Chapter 18

The house was chaotic. There were people everywhere, and the little girls, while Stiles knew there were really only three of them, seemed to sprout up wherever he went, demanding he play with them or answer random questions, or let them use him as a ladder so they could reach that high-up thing right there, _no right there, Stiles_. Thankfully, he was kind of used to it, having been the _fun_ omega in the daycares he'd worked at, but it was still exhausting trying to keep up with all of them.

The tea party they bullied him into joining was pretty fun, though. They held it in Ava’s room and he helped her set up the chairs and table while Indrid and Agatha raced downstairs to get the necessary refreshments. Ava asked very sweetly if Stiles would dress up with her, so they wrapped themselves in different fabrics in a multitude of colors until they looked like ostentatious pseudo-princesses, or giant rainbow marshmallows. Ava even gifted him with one of her more woodsy crowns, a vaguely circular tangle of dried vines and flowers her family had no doubt helped her craft from the local flora, while she stuck to a more traditional glittery plastic affair. Of course then Derek showed up at the door behind the twins, carrying a tray burdened with little tea sandwiches and a pitcher of raspberry lemonade.

“Thank you, butler,” one of the girls, Agatha, probably, said after he put it on the purple wooden table, beside which Stiles was awkwardly perched on a kid-sized chair trying not to mess up the drape of his sort-of dress. He was starting to be able to tell the twins apart, despite their similar bob haircuts and their identical peach colored shorts and white frilly shirts. Agatha seemed to be a bit more assertive than her sister, which was saying something for an alpha kid.

“You are dismissed,” Indrid added with a satisfied nod that made her light brown hair cover her face until she daintily smoothed it back with both hands.

If he didn’t know better, Stiles would have sworn Derek was blushing almost as much as he was, which actually made him feel a lot better about the whole princesses having tea thing. It wasn’t like Stiles was overly concerned with outwardly maintaining his masculinity, he had given that up the day he realized he’d probably get pregnant and bare his mate’s cubs, then nurse them for a long while after that. He just wasn’t overeager to fully embrace the dress-wearing subset of receptive omega males who liked to flaunt their baby-making abilities as well as their male parts and tended to be very vocal about their dual interests. That aside, he wasn’t opposed to exploring his slightly fluid gender identity, either, he just felt a tiny bit awkward sitting in a dress in front of the hyper-masculine alpha.

Derek nodded silently to acknowledge both girls and retreated with perhaps a bit more haste than was strictly warranted.

“Wait,” Stiles called as the alpha got to the door. He froze and turned stiffly, looking like he was battling with some fight or flight instincts. “Shouldn’t Derek join us for our little shindig?” he asked the table at large.

Ava nodded quickly, he noticed she was oddly quiet around the twins and didn’t know if it was a dynamics things or a cousins thing. He didn’t really have any close relatives, but he knew from other omegas at school that they could be pretty domineering, especially when they were alphas.

Agatha shook her head, “Oh, no, we don’t need another alpha, that will unbalance us. One omega per alpha is ideal.”

And that was _all kinds_ of not quite right, but Stiles didn’t think getting into a debate about the social implications of that particular argument with a seven year old was really worth his time or frustration. She _probably_ didn’t know what she was talking about, likely parroting what she’d overheard from school or family members or something, but still, it was a startling regurgitation of some more heavy-handed alpha-centric propaganda.

“There are only four chairs,” Indrid pointed out, apparently taking cues from her sister, but in a thankfully less offensive manner.

Stiles puffed out a breath of air and waved an arm, dispelling the sudden heaviness in his chest and making sure the gauzy fabric on his arm poofed out comically, “I think a couple of omegas like us can handle three alphas, what do you think, Ava? Plus, Derek’s a little too muscley for one of these little chairs, anyway. I’m sure he’d be much more comfortable on the floor.”

Ava’s comically large eyes were trained on him, hopeful and eager, “Yes! Yes we can, Stiles! And you and Derek can finish the story you started this morning! Derek, please!” she turned her manipulatively adorable begging face to her brother.

Stiles twisted to look at where Derek was inching his way unsubtley out the door and watched as he crumbled visibly under his sister’s terrible power.

“Not so fast there, dude,” Stiles said, “The omegas are calling, you gotta come join our tea party and storytime social hour.”

Indrid and Agatha didn’t seem to be entirely onboard with the change in plans, but Derek relented with a sigh, coming back across the room to kneel between Stiles and his sister and putting on a fake smile of fakery.

After an awkward shuffle of cups and plates and sandwiches, Stiles insisted on pouring the lemonade in order to avert certain disaster since he knew kids were not that coordinated, they settled into Stiles’ special retelling of Arion and Emis.

With his unique twist ending.

And Derek’s awesome sound effects.

 

Sometime in the early afternoon Derek disappeared with the tray and Oscar took pity on Stiles and corralled the bigger kids, taking them outside to play a quick game of hide and seek with him and his mate. That just left baby Bartholomew in the house, who seemed content to chill out in Stiles’ arms while his moms went to their cottage to unpack. Thinking back, Stiles wasn't exactly sure _how_ he ended up as a baby rack, but Bart was pretty mellow, so that was an unexpected bonus.

"Well, don't you look natural like that?" Talia said, and Stiles whirled them to face her. Bart giggled and Stiles grinned down at him before looking up at the Hale matriarch.

"You sound like my teachers, which, if you know them, isn't that great of a compliment. But thanks anyway, I guess?" For some reason, Stiles found himself being totally honest with Talia. He knew a part of him accepted her as a kind of a surrogate mother, as bizarre as that seemed, which was a place Scott’s mom had often tried to fill, but Melissa wasn't an alpha.

Talia smiled and gently clucked them both under the chin. "I don't think you're just a breeder, Stiles, I mean that it's nice to see you smile so easily. You look carefree. The way you care so easily for Bart is just a lovely perk."

Stiles snorted, and apparently _that_ particular Hale trait was catching, "I can assure you I'm the opposite of carefree, but it's nice to know I fooled someone."

She drew him into an unexpected hug, Bart cooing between them as he tried to grab handfuls of her unbound hair. "Don't worry so much, Stiles, we'll take care of you."

The phrase echoed in his mind as she retreated down the hall. He vaguely remembered Mark telling him that during his heat, but even _then_ the apparent ambiguity of that declaration hadn’t been a total comfort.

He spent the afternoon in relative peace, camped out in the surprisingly empty living room, playing about a thousand and a half games of peek-a-boo, feeding Bart a light snack, changing his stinky diaper and washing their hands in the sink, then changing Bart's soaked onesie after the tsunami that ensued. Then he figured he’d be sociable and try to find the rest of the strangely quiet Hales, since it was getting a bit late and no one seemed to be around.

A part of him strongly suspected that meal times would devolve into either a free-for-all, or a bloodbath, probably both given the general frantic chaos he'd stumbled upon earlier, but the truth was much more bizarre. Stiles entered the kitchen and found an organized assembly of both omegas and alphas carefully preparing the various components of their, apparently expansive, dinner. Even the kids were helping at the different stations; shelling peas, chopping vegetables, mixing something chocolatey in a bowl. It was incredible.

Eudora was the first to look up and grinned, "Oh, good! Stiles come help Derek with these veggies. We're roasting them, so be sure to use olive oil and some seasonings, too. And you, Bartholomew, need to come with mommy so we can go on an adventure to get mama from _our_ house! If we don’t she might stay there and dust forever!"

They traded tasks and Stiles nudged Derek with his shoulder after he had washed his hands again. "Veggie duty? How'd you score this sweet deal? I just changed a diaper."

Derek gave a half-smile, but seemed oddly reticent.

Stiles glanced around and had the sudden feeling that he was the center of attention in the relative quiet of the room. Some, like Agnes and Indrid, were way less subtle about it than the others, craning their necks around to stare at him, peas forgotten.

"Oookay," Stiles drew out, he could handle attention. Maybe. "So, Mark told me a pretty funny story about learning to swim," he addressed Derek, but it was really talking to the room at large, which the alpha undoubtedly picked up on. "Do you like to swim?"

Derek looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "You know I can swim, Stiles." So maybe he hadn’t picked up on it. Or he was just bad at conversations.

Stiles forged on, anyway. "Ah, yes, how could I ever forget that particular introduction to the family pond, but do you _like_ to swim?"

"He does," a voice piped up, belonging to one of the younger boys who had a knife in one hand and a potato in the other. He also had Derek's expressed eyebrows.

"Is that so? Lance, right?"

Lance nodded, slightly wide-eyed but trying not to show that he was impressed with Stiles’ mad detective skills.

"What about you? Do you like to swim?"

And that was how Stiles diverted at least some of the attention from himself. It turned out all the Hale kids were Olympic-worthy swimmers, at least if you listened to them and their parent's account of things. He was going to withhold judgement until he saw them all in action.

When Stiles snuck a glance at Derek, the alpha was smiling softly.

 

The dinner itself was only slightly less organized than the meal preparation, which still impressed Stiles. The only family dinners he’d participated in recently had involved drive thru dinners in the cab of his dad’s cruiser or hastily-made nachos with Scott as Melissa flew out the door on her way to the hospital. As the heavy serving dishes of food went out through the back door and onto the picnic tables, Stiles stepped to the side by where Derek was holding the door open and shook his head.

“Dude, are all meals with you guys like this?”

Derek shrugged, but waited until a smirking Peter was out of sight before he said, “When we all eat together, which is at least once every few days.”

Stiles smiled as he watched Ava confidently stride out the door with a small bowl of pudding, her mother carrying a much larger one behind her. “This is pretty cool,” Stiles admitted.

“You don’t eat with your pack?” a quiet voice said. It was the other boy, Nathan, who was apparently a champion at the back-stroke and had pale green eyes and dark hair.

“When they’re home, but my dad’s the sheriff, so he’s out a lot.”

Nathan perked up. “Who else is in your pack?” he asked, like he didn’t know.

Well, he _might_ not know, but Stiles still smelled a set-up. Apparently Derek did, too because he cuffed his little cousin on the back of his head and told him to get outside.

“Sorry, they’re nosy,” he explained, as if Stiles hadn’t caught on to that within the first ten minutes of hanging out with the Hales.

“S’okay, I don’t really mind, as long as we don’t spend the meal dissecting my spectrums or anything weird like that.”

He seriously should have known better.

 

They didn't ask him about his spectrums, not exactly, at least. Instead, his end of the table, by Talia and Andrew, with Derek on one side and Peter on the other, seemed to focus on his interests, which would have been fine if it hasn't turned into a weird pissing contest between, inexplicably, Lance and Peter.

"I like Batman," Lance insisted, spearing a cherry tomato so hard it squelched on his plate, splattering his salad with tiny seeds and goo.

"Yes," Peter drawled, "but have you read The Ultimates?"

The conversation devolved from there and Stiles eventually turned to the eerily silent Derek.

"What's up? Read any good books, lately?" He asked, for something to say. He'd liked the selection he'd seen in Derek's closet and figured they could bicker about plot points or favorite characters or something.

"Oh, I'm afraid my nephew doesn't always give books the proper respect they deserve," Peter butted in with a shit-eating grin just this side of diabolical.

Talia cleared her throat and glared at her brother with enough force to visibly cow him. Beside him, Derek had stiffened to the point Stiles was afraid he'd get muscle cramps or wolf out or maybe angry cry, his expression a complicated combination of fury and maybe self-loathing. Stiles nudged the alpha with his knee, "Hey, didn't I miss a ball game while I was out? Did my team trounce yours or what?"

Derek deflated a bit and took the bait.

Peter-induced crisis temporarily averted.

Or something.

Stiles wasn't sure because both Andrew and Peter were watching his conversation with Derek awfully closely. But, thankfully, the rest of the meal was less tense, the reunited families easily meshing with each other once again, the warm air filled with a happy mix of pheromones Stiles could definitely get used to, smelling strongly of the Hale pack, good food, and contentment. All-in-all, it was a peaceful evening.

 

Stiles was pretty sure he was being set up, and he strongly suspected that Andrew had something to do with it. The reason he thought so was because that night when he descended the stairs into the basement and made his way to the heat room he’d been given to sleep in, not his previous room which still needed to be decontaminated, and walked in he found Peter sitting on the bed, pretending to be casual and failing. The dude was not subtle.

“Oh, my bad, guess I’m in the next one,” Stiles said, attempting to leave with everyone's dignity intact, but then Peter was just _there_ , _looming_ in front of him until Stiles’ back was pressed to the wall. He wasn’t sure how Peter managed to loom, since they were same height, but he did.

_Must be a creeper power._

“Did you know that Derek was pre-bonded?” Peter asked, brushing the pad of one finger across the swell of Stiles’ cheek as his warm breath ghosted across his face.

“Woah, Captain Bad-Touch, if you don’t stop I’m going to have to yell for an adult. And no, I didn’t know, but if he wanted me to he probably would have told me.”

But it did make a certain amount of sense. Wolves who were pre-bonded, but didn’t go through with the mating, stereotypically tended to end up as sad loners. There was an entire genre of romantic comedies featuring severed pre-bonds and the depressed wolf who was left behind, usually an alpha, finding love again. Stiles used to make Scott watch them with him so they could laugh at the lame plots and stilted dialogue. Suddenly, it didn’t seem quite so funny, anymore.

But why was Peter telling him about it?

"My nephew is a fool," Peter said. “Much too foolish for such an amazing omega like you.” Apparently going for the _I'm better than him pick me_ approach.

Classy.

"Not that this history lesson and inappropriate proposal aren’t fascinating, but I'm gonna hit the hay, so you can leave, now."

Peter was undeterred. "He helped her burn down the library while I was inside," he said casually, smirking like he couldn't hear Stiles heart lurch and attempt to beat its way out of his chest.

_Conspiracy to commit arson_ , Stiles suddenly remembered. That’s what Derek’s juvenile record had said. He'd been bored one night and had paged through it while his dad was passed out after a double, but it was like reading a very dry, half-finished news article because Derek hadn’t actually been there when the library had caught on fire and the real culprit had never been caught and the case went cold. Which meant whoever Derek had been pre-bonded to had been the one to torch the library and any of the books that remained of his mother’s beloved archives. Wait, while Peter was _inside_?

"What?" he managed, incredulous, but then Derek was _right there_ in a classic kind of dramatic entrance he seemed so fond of, dragging Peter away from Stiles with a savage growl.

Peter fought back, suddenly half-shifted like his nephew, clawing at Derek and wildly gnashing his sharp teeth. Stiles was desperately thankful for having paid attention in school the day of the kidnapping because he knew to huddle down and wait until the two unmated alphas were completely focused on tearing each other apart before he slipped silently out the door and apparently right into someone’s arms. It was Andrew and he looked terrified.

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re alright. Go to the other room and lock the door,” he pushed Stiles toward the next metal door, thankfully it wasn’t the room he’d occupied for his heat. Stiles slipped inside and drew the thick bolt to secure the reinforced door.

From what he could make out in the near-dark, the room looked almost identical to the other two, but the sheets were a pale lavender. He couldn’t hear anything through the soundproofed walls, which was partially a relief because it meant that maybe not all his heat-induced ravings were heard by the Hales, but it didn’t offer him all that much comfort since he still knew what was happening in the next room. Even with their _omega prize_ gone, he knew Peter and Derek would continue to tear into each other until one of them yielded, a more powerful alpha intervened, or someone could get them to calm down. Stiles wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face against his knees.

_What the hell?_

 

“Stiles?” A voice said, jolting him awake.

He looked around, momentarily confused in the dark room that smelled like Hale, but not much else. It took him a few more seconds to sort out where he was and what he was doing there. Right. The _Peter_ thing, and then the _Derek_ thing, and _then_ the Peter _and_ Derek thing.

Stiles was still sitting with his back against the wall by the door and his knees up to his chest, he stretched out and groaned as a static feeling flooded through his numb limbs. “Hm?” he finally said, remembering that a voice had woken him.

The flap at the bottom of the door where food or water could be dropped off for the omega in heat was pushed open with slender fingers.

"You okay in there?" It was Mark, which was a plus. He liked Mark.

"Well, two alphas just tried to douche their way into my pants, so no, not really."

Mark snorted, but it sounded forced. "Is that what happened?"

What had happened was Peter had assaulted him, accused his nephew of some pretty heinous crimes, and then they'd battled like Stiles was a freaking omega prince from a lame fairy tale. But he didn't think he could trust himself to share all of that without either crying or screaming or both. So instead he said, "Yep. Why, did I miss anything?"

Mark seemed to be weighing his options. "No," he lied, "that's all."

Stiles closed his eyes. Whatever the other omega wasn't telling him probably sucked.

"Um, but there is someone who wants to talk to you, if you're okay with it. I'd advise you to stay in there, though. Just in case."

_Just in case of what?_

Stiles asked and Mark hesitated again. "Just, you know, in case."

Which as a super lame non-answer, but whatever, Stiles could extrapolate from the evidence he'd been given. _Not good things_ , was probably one answer, _forced mating_ was another.

Great.

He breathed out an angry sigh, "Sure, why the hell not? Which of the creepers is interested in visiting my door tonight?"

"Uh, everyone else is going for a hunt, so you'll have some privacy." He non-answered again. Seriously, he seemed to be having a problem with that.

"You took enigma lessons from Andrew, didn't you?" Stiles accused and got his first genuine response, a barked laugh quickly silenced.

"Just, please don't open the door, Stiles," Mark said in parting, letting the little metal flap close.

He didn't see the point in responding.

 

It was quiet again after that, until Stiles began to feel the urge to move, to pace and pounce and flail his way around the room. He stuck to pacing, though, and on his third half-lap the flap on the door opened again, just enough for Stiles to see the tips of two fingers casting shadows across the floor from the soft light of the hallway.

“Nice of you to join me,” he said.

The fingers twitched, or flinched, he wasn’t sure and didn’t particularly care.

“Want to explain what the hell that was?” Stiles asked. He could feel himself getting worked up and reveled in the tightening coil of frustration in his breast. The alpha on the other side of the door wasn’t in his line of sight, and wouldn’t be able to sense enough of his pheromones to feel affected, so Stiles let himself seethe.

Still no answer.

Stiles smacked the flat of his palm against the door. “Just talk to me, Derek!”

The fingers flinched back this time and the flap snapped shut for a beat before it opened again, a little wider.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” Derek said softly, sounding too calm and controlled.

Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation.

_Of course._

“Derek,” he said, rubbing his face roughly with his palms, “I just want you to tell me the truth. I’m lost, here, I don’t know up from down in this place and no one is really helping me out, all that much. Your uncle, not the creeper, is convinced I’m going to be used as a pawn to justify the wholesale murder of your family, although your dad either disagrees or is high as a freaking kite and just doesn’t care, loads of my classmates are being held captive by insane betas, and two hormonal alphas just tried to old school their way into the sack with me. And do you know what, no, I don’t even want to talk about all of that, right now, I want to know what the hell Peter was saying about with your involvement in the library fire.”

“It’s not what you think,” Derek said, still sounding too composed for Stiles to get a real read on him.

He breathed out an almost-growl, “That’s the point! I don’t _know_ what to think. Your entire family is giving me weird mixed signals and bullshit half-answers! They’re mysterious, then they’re douchey, then they’re all _grr-alpha_ , then we’re cuddling in a half-naked pile and I’m suddenly like an honorary Hale, or something, but not really because I _know_ when I'm being played, Derek. I just want you to tell me the truth!” He was yelling, Stiles belatedly realized, frustrated and angry and so _tired_ of playing the strange games he never seemed to know the rules to. He couldn’t believe he’d just woken up from his heat that morning and he already had to deal with so much stressful shit.

_And then there was_ this _asshole_.

“Stiles,” Derek said, and then just stopped.

He snapped. He couldn’t handle it anymore. The lies and deceptions and being manipulated were just too much to take, on top of Derek’s stupid insecurities or whatever was keeping him from talking.

“Oh, come on,” he said venomously, “I’d love to hear about the time you helped your lover burn down the library, I bet it’s a fun story.”

Derek was quiet for a long moment, but Stiles thought he could hear the alpha taking deep, slow breaths. “I won’t let you bait me,” he finally said, voice hushed.

Stiles clenched his fists until his knuckles ached with it. “I don’t care about the books, Derek. No, that’s a lie, I definitely care about the books. They’re the only part of my mother I had left, but that doesn’t even matter because Peter told me he was _in the building_ at the time of the fire. So, I'm asking you, what the hell happened?” Stiles felt a twisting feeling in his gut, like he was looking over the edge of a cliff, deciding whether or not to jump, full of adrenaline and fear and maybe even some anticipation. It was _yet to be determined_ whether or not he was wearing a parachute.

Derek made a noise that could definitely be classified as a growl, and it sent a shiver up Stiles’ spine. He sank onto the edge of the mattress and waited it out.

“He was there because he was waiting for _his_ lover,” Derek grated out. It was thrilling to hear actual emotion in his voice, even if it was barely contained hatred.

_Self-hatred?_

Maybe.

“His lover used him to learn out the best ways into and out of the library, to figure what was left of the archives; what my mother hasn't already taken. She used me, first, to get to him. Peter isn’t much older than me and we’ve always competed about everything. She must have figured that out and after she got me, too easily, she went for him. My pre-bonded used me and I _let_ her. That’s the reason the only books left of your mother’s archives are in this house. It’s why Peter has never found a mate and why I don’t have one, either.”

_Holy gods._

That was _not at all_ what Stiles had been expecting when he’d forced the issue. He thought it was maybe some kind of stupid prank gone wrong that Derek had helped come up with or something that did not involve an evil manipulative woman using a teenager to get to an older man so she could commit arson in order to destroy the town’s ancient records. That was _actually diabolical_.

“Derek,” he said soft, “that bitch was super evil, you know that right?" Because it didn’t at all sound like Derek _did_ know that, even though it was painfully obvious to an outsider.

Stiles felt like _such_ an _asshole_.

Derek didn’t answer, of course, probably too convinced of his guilt to even register Stiles’ opinion on the matter. Which was bullshit, and suddenly threw a lot of Derek’s behavior into an entirely new light. It certainly took self-deprecation to a whole new level.

“Well, shit,” Stiles said, dropping to his knees and crawling to the door. He sat beside it and, before he could take the time to really think about his actions, pressed his fingers against Derek’s. He could feel the alpha freeze, as if he hadn’t already been an immovable object.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “no one should be taken advantage of like that.”

“Not even an alpha?” Derek said with a sharp hint of bitterness in his voice that spoke of some heavy dynamics-driven issues Stiles felt the urge to delve into, but knew it wasn’t the time.

He snorted, instead, wiggling his fingers so they sort of entwined with Derek’s. “Naw, you guys have it bad enough without psychos using you for their own nefarious purposes. Hold up, I was, like ten or eleven when the fire happened. Dude, how old were _you_? How old was _she_ if she was going after both of you guys at the same time?”

“Old enough to-”

“If you say _to know better_ I’m going to have to put some of that _aconitum_ in your pants, dude.”

Derek was quiet, but his fingers twitched in Stiles’ awkward grip. He adjusted his hand until he had a better hold on Derek, ignoring how his wrist twinged at the odd angle. He was determined not to let go until the alpha at least acknowledged that what the woman had done was wrong. _So, so wrong_.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, though. I mean, did you know what her master plan was? Did you light the match?”

The report had shown that an unknown accelerant had been placed in the basement, with a fuse that extended up a little-used stairwell at the back of the building, where he and his mom used to sneak in and out at night. Was that the entrance Peter had shown her for their trysts? Had she taken Derek there for elicit make-outs and more? Stiles shuddered at the thought of the no-doubt older woman _using_ , a what, fifteen year old, Derek as a means to an end.

Derek’s fingers twitched against his and Stiles focused on calming down. So close, the alpha would be able to smell his moods quite easily, and pick up his pheromones through where they touched. He didn’t need any kind of enhanced sensed to know that the alpha was swimming in misery and Stiles wished he could _do_ something to help.

Like a _peacemaking_.

And _that_ was a thought.

Stiles wasn’t even sure how to do it, honestly, but he’d learned a few things when he’d seen Mark perform one with Talia. Maybe if he at least attempted it he could get Derek out of the self-loathing loop he seemed to be permanently stuck in.

“I get that you blame yourself,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes in the near dark and focusing on pushing down his own feelings of regret and hurt and the residual anger he’d been wallowing in over the past few minutes. “When my mom died and my dad was just beside himself with sorrow, I felt like I could never do anything right, even though he never once said or did anything to make me think that. I was afraid to shift for a long time, too, afraid I’d turn into a wolf and stay that way like when she was first killed. I spent three days shifted, right after, running and howling and so sad, but I couldn’t even cry, not in that form. When I shifted back I didn’t want to be a wolf again because I was afraid I’d get stuck that way, or my dad would see me and remember my mom and he’d start drinking again. So even though I didn’t get her killed, I still feel guilty every time I think about it.”

Derek’s fingers flexed and moved until they were fully entwined with Stiles’.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Derek said. His voice was hoarse and his hand warm.

Stiles opened his eyes and smiled sadly, tilting his head back against the wall. “Tell that to my wolf.”

“Wolves aren’t that great at thinking rationally.”

“That’s the point,” Stiles said with a breathy laugh.

Derek hummed in response and his thumb began to slowly sweep across the side of Stiles’ hand.

“I get it, though, I get irrationality and guilt and blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault. Those are pretty much Stiles Stilinski trademarks, so don’t think you’re the authority on all that, here.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, and it was a complete sentence, packed with weariness and reluctance and something that sounded quite a bit like affection.

He closed his eyes again and held onto that last emotion, drawing it in and feeling it grow and bloom in his chest. Stiles imagined it was like a flowering tree, sun-warmed and glistening with fresh dew in the morning light. He took that feeling and let it flow through him, down his arm to where their fingers were entwined like roots in damp soil.

Derek gasped in a breath.

“Stiles,” he said, this time with awe.

“It wasn’t your fault, Derek, she was evil and she used you,” Stiles whispered, kept whispering until the alpha believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't want to sit down and have a tea party with Derek and Stiles?!


	19. Chapter 19

"I'm opening the door," Stiles said, sometime later. It was pretty obvious that the _peacemaking_ had worked. Derek's warm hand was pliant in his and the alpha's breathing was slow and deep. He hadn’t spoken or so much as twitched for many long minutes.

Derek grunted in reply, but still didn't move.

Stiles smiled in the dark. "Me opening the door requires your cooperation, dude."

The alpha gave a soft whine like he'd been woken from a good dream and he just wanted to go back to sleep. Stiles could definitely relate, even if he didn’t feel quite the same effects from what he’d done. Holding hands was pretty awesome.

"Derek," he said as gently as he dared, "wake up, I'm opening the door whether you’re sitting against it or not."

That seemed to work because the broad fingers carefully untangled themselves from his own and as they retreated the flap closed with a soft snap. Stiles took a fortifying breath.

_This is a dumb idea_ , a part of him declared. That part of his conscience had always sounded a lot like Scott.

_This is an awesome idea_ , he counter-argued.

Unsurprisingly, he won.

Stiles drew back the bolt and the door swung open on silent hinges. Derek stood there, haloed by the yellow light of the hallway, looking like a hero from a fairy tale with his stupidly handsome face and perfect body. Stiles suddenly wished he'd kept the wooden crown so he at least attempt to look the part as well. But what would that make him? The jailed omega awaiting his handsome alpha rescuer? No, he prefered the role of the daring prince.

"Stiles," Derek said, and he could get used to hearing his name spoken with such reverence.

"Derek," he replied, unable to keep the smile from his voice or lips.

_Hm, lips._

That was an even _better_ idea.

Stiles drew his guest into the room with a strong grip on Derek's forearms and a steady look in his eye. He figured that the alpha wouldn't be comfortable even being in the same room with Stiles after sharing his confession if the omega conveyed even the slightest hint of discomfort or doubt. He decided that Derek could be insecure enough for the both of them as he took the lead.

It was strange and exhilarating having the power to move the alpha. Stiles wondered if that's what it was like to have a mate; for them to trust you to look after their best interests even as you hoped they'd look out for yours. He knew he probably shouldn't think about that with Derek _right there in front of him_ , but the temptation was too much. Stiles had never been all that great at denying himself when temptation called.

_Dumb idea_ , Scott's voice echoed.

It was, Stiles acknowledged, even as he gently led the alpha to the pale sheets the color of that dried goop they'd had to paint themselves with. Stiles wanted to strip the shirt from Derek's body, to see if he was as perfectly muscled as he remembered, but that was one impulse he managed to quell. If just barely. Derek looked _really good_ without a shirt.

"Lay down," he instructed, giving a gentle push to help him along.

Derek moved slowly, seeming bone-tired and pliant under Stiles' hands. He made no attempt to speak or protest as he collapsed onto his back. Not even when Stiles carefully began stripping him of his shoes and socks.

"You're pretty tired, huh?" he asked as Derek lay sprawled like a starfish across the bed, eyes closed.

It was _adorable_ to see him so utterly relaxed.

_Defenseless_ , a voice said. That didn't sound like Scott. It sounded like Talia, or Stiles’ mother.

He swallowed back the sudden burning in the back of his throat and smiled as Derek's eyes drifted half-open.

"I'm taking your pants off, but only because wearing pants in bed should be a federal crime or something.”

_Like kidnapping or murder_ , the voice whispered.

It was getting harder to maintain his composure, but Stiles managed to keep smiling despite the panic growing in his mind, hands surprisingly steady as they worked the button and zipper of Derek's pants, drawing them over his hips and, with the alpha's help, the hard swell of his flawless ass. Stiles hated himself just a little for not being able to concentrate on the pornographic display, mind too busy frantically obsessing over the possible fallout awaiting him and the Hales. They might be manipulative and sort of creepy at times, but they were fundamentally good people. Even his parents had thought so.

_But what could_ he _do?_

As Stiles had informed Derek, he and guilt were so closely acquainted they were practically Siamese twins. His mother's death was not, in any conceivable way, his fault. Objectively, he knew that. But that didn't mean he wasn't guilty, that he didn't _feel guilt_ about it. Stiles couldn't fathom what he'd feel like if he woke up one day with the realization that his inaction had caused the deaths of eighteen people. Eighteen beautiful, powerful, wonderfully intense people. Some of them _children_.

Stiles crawled up the bed to Derek's side, heartsick and hating himself. He ghosted his fingers over the tense lines of the alpha's forehead until the muscles relaxed.

"You're a pretty awesome guy," Stiles whispered.

"Know," Derek slurred, closed, and Stiles nearly choked on a giggle.

Tears blurred Derek's lax face for a moment before Stiles closed his eyes, too, and brushed his lips against the alpha's in a silent goodbye.

Derek made a noise of surprise and maybe interest, but Stiles pulled back and covered the alpha’s eyes with a hand.

"No, sleep, there's time enough for that later," he said, hoping his heart was beating too quickly for Derek to pick up on the lie.

But then, as Stiles moved to pull away, there was that buzzing feeling of temptation, again, vibrating under his skin not unlike how the poison had felt itching up his arms. He was momentarily torn between leaving immediately and staying to see what it would feel like for the alpha to kiss him back. If it would taste as amazing as he thought it would.

_Eh, go for it_ , Scott’s resigned voice whispered.

Stiles smiled through the burning in his eyes and focused on all of the things he wanted Derek to know but he was too confused or scared to say. How the alpha was stunningly beautiful, powerful, loyal and kind. How Stiles admired the ease with which he handled his siblings and cousins, and how amazing it was that he stood up for himself when he felt he was in the right. The flowering tree of Stiles’ affection glowed bright and hot in his breast as he bent to kiss Derek one last time.

The alpha startled beneath him as their lips touched again, but then his mouth opened and he returned the gesture with a fervour Stiles hadn’t imagined possible. He braced his forearms against the bed on either side of Derek’s head and sank into the freefall sensation of kissing, hot and wet and _so,_ _so perfect_. He tasted like he smelled, delicious and earthy and _right_.

Derek’s strong hands held his face as his stubble marked a scratchy path against Stiles’ tender skin and down his neck, the searing suction of his lips and sharpness of his teeth wrenched a breathy moan from Stiles’ lips and it took everything in him not to tilt his head back even further to reveal every line of his exposed throat.

Neither of them even dared to whisper as they tasted each other’s skin with tongues and lips, sucking and biting red marks that bloomed and faded between one heartbeat and the next. They gasped, mouths to flushed skin, teeth exposed and eyes flashing as they wordlessly expressed all of the things they felt, but didn’t dare to confess.

Stiles let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder as he panted and smiled sadly against the soft fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t believe how _amazing_ it felt to finally touch and be touched. The sensation was like nothing he could have imagined, even though he had certainly given it copious amounts of thought during some of his more private moments. He suddenly wondered what it would have been like to feel Derek’s mouth and hands on him during his heat. Would it have helped to quell his internal fire, or served to stoke the flames impossibly hotter? And wasn’t _that_ a thought?

“We should have done this a week ago,” he breathed against Derek’s collarbone, tracing the hard ridge of silky skin with his lips.

Derek hummed beneath him, a strong hand stroking a line down Stiles’ spine, then coming to rest on his thigh where Stiles was still kneeling over him on the bed. When he looked up, the alpha’s hazel eyes were dreamy and relaxed, a gentle smile on his face and a flush high on his ridiculously gorgeous cheeks. A part of Stiles’ heart broke at the sight; the strong, capable alpha reduced to this glowing, soft creature who lay pliant and carefree under him.

Stiles bit the inside of his mouth until he was convinced he wasn’t going to sob out a confession or beg for Derek’s forgiveness when he spoke. The vulnerability he saw as he looked down at Derek made his heart clench and his stomach turn. His resolution to _do something_ solidified into a heavy iron sensation as solid as his bones.

“Go to sleep, Derek,” he finally whispered so quietly only the alpha could hear.

The _peacemaking_ was easier that time, either because he’d simply figured out how to do it or because it was with Derek, he wasn’t sure. But even as he felt the internal warmth of the connection through his arms and fingers where they traced the perfect features of Derek’s face and stubbled cheeks, Stiles’ chest grew cold and achy with the deceit.

When the alpha was asleep, Stiles carefully moved his heavy arms from where they still rested on Stiles’ thighs and placed them over his chest, then drew the sheet overtop him like they had changed roles in their pseudo fairy tale. Stiles crept his way across the room, every sense heightened to pick up the slightest sound or motion that would spell disaster for his plan. When he made it to the door without Derek stirring, he managed to calm himself enough to grip the thick metal and slowly draw it closed, watching as the shaft of pale light that spilled across the prone form grew smaller until he disappeared in the darkness.

With a heavy heart, Stiles drew the bolt on the outside of the door, meant to keep any heat-mad omega from leaving the room. He wondered if the Hales had done the same to him, though at the time he hadn’t been of a mind to work out the intricacies involved in gripping a door knob and turning, anyway, so it would have been a wasted gesture. He secured the catch on the feeding trap as well, lest Derek manage to open it and howl for help before Stiles had gotten away.

When Derek woke up from the _peacemaking_ to discover Stiles' betrayal he'd likely be devastated, and Stiles knew he would have to live with the alpha’s hatred and loathing that would follow. But he would gladly suffer the endless derision than a moment of justifiable guilt over his and his family’s deaths.

Stiles listened for any noise in the house, he would have better luck hearing in his other form, but he still needed his hands for a few more things. Not hearing anything, he padded down the hall and into the basement's mud room. He stripped off his clothes and shoes and buried them under what was in the tub, something of Eudora's and a few random towels, then he took a deep breath and held it as he opened the other inner door.

The room was packed. Jars lined the shelves covering every wall and herbs hung from a hundred ceiling hooks to dry. Stiles stared in dismay when he didn't immediately recognize the stinky goop Laura had helped slather him with, but then he saw it tucked between two other jars continuing purple-ish slop. He thought he had the right one. He hoped.

_Only one way to find out._

Back in the mud room he closed the door and let out a relieved breath, though he smelled more like the herbs than the Hales, even after such a short period of exposure. Stiles couldn’t imagine spending any more time in there without at least a gas mask, if not a full body suit. There had definitely been actual poisons among what he thought were some of the more standard herbs used for healing. He stared at the jar in his hand and almost let himself doubt. If he had a jar of something that wasn’t the antidote he and Derek had used, there was no telling what would happen to him, alone and defenseless.

_Just do it_ , the woman's voice, his mother's, maybe, said.

Stiles sucked in another deep breath and popped open the lid. Even without breathing it in he was aware if the pungent fumes it gave off. His eyes watered as he hastily scooped some into his hand and smeared the cold paste across his chest. It made his skin tingle as he wiped it onto his legs and feet, across his neck and cheeks, every place he knew were scent glands and that he could reach. He even ran a hand through his bristly hair, just in case. Lungs beginnings to burn, Stiles set down the pot, using a fingerful to scribbling an almost illegible _sorry_ on the stone floor before he wrenched open the outer door and raced up the stairs and into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least there was kissing?


	20. Chapter 20

So, the purple goo bodypaint thing was definitely not Stiles’ best idea to date, but he had been operating with a pretty short deadline and half his brain in his pants, so he was willing to cut himself a wee bit of slack. Except that left him sprinting through Hale land in the dark, unsure where they were hunting and beginning the feel the crap dry in uncomfortable swaths across his skin. He took a brief second to reevaluate his life choices and found his overall survival instincts and basic decision making skills to be severely lacking.

_Nothing to do about it, now._

Except to keep running and hope he wasn’t found out. If the Hales discovered him, he’d have some serious explaining to do about how and why he'd locked their son, who smelled quite a bit like _excited omega_ in the heat room Stiles had been told to stay in, and why he was currently galavanting around naked and covered in awful-smelling _aconitum_ antidote, or lavender-colored powder, depending on when they found him. He knew he had to wait for it to dry completely before he washed it and the smell off, but he needed that to happen sooner, rather than later. Stiles swerved between trees, trying to keep his footfalls light and his breathing quiet, aiming for the creek instead of the pond on the off chance that the Hales were stalking their prey upwind instead of down.

Thankfully, he made it there just as the last of the gunk was drying uncomfortably in the crack of his ass. Stiles would have been embarrassed about how ridiculous he looked, but he was the only one around and being naked in the late spring breeze would be kind of exhilarating, if it weren’t for the whole _running away to save the Hales from being murdered_ aspect of the whole thing. Yeah, that regrettably put a bit of a damper on _frolicking naked through the woods_.

Stiles quickly recognized a terrible flaw in his plan. He hadn’t taken into account that the creek would be _freezing cold_ when he stepped into it in his human form. Sure, as a wolf he’d splashed around and chased fish or whatever, but standing on the sandy bottom in nothing but his thin human skin made him want to squeal and flail his way out of there and into a nest of blankets with maybe even some alphas thrown in there for added warmth.

And _what_?

_Ruined_. The Hales had _ruined_ him.

He bit his lips to keep from releasing the high pitched noise trembling at the back of his throat as he sat in the water that reached his chest and it felt like he had been _castrated_. Those were definitely tears in his eyes as he leaned back and let the glacial water wash over his head and face and chest, heaving quick breaths as it worked to clean off the light purple residue and every trace of scent from Stiles’ body. He was quivering when he finally emerged, and the air felt hot and good after such icy cold. But unfortunately he knew he didn’t have time to putter around until he could actually feel all of his extremities, not when he was still on Hale land.

In the distance he heard a howl, then a dozen, or a hundred, more followed. It was hard to tell how many wolves were actually there when packs sang together, but he knew all but Derek had been out of the house. It wasn't a _summoning_ , though, nor was there any distress or anger in the sound. There was an anticipatory kind of joyfulness behind it.

_A hunting call._

That was fortunate for Stiles, it meant their energies would be channeled into taking down whatever big game they'd found in the woods, and not in tracking him. It also told him their relative location, on the other side of the cottages from where he'd taken his frigid bath. He brought up a mental map of the area and plotted his course to run parallel to the road while still skirting Hale land. The other option was to cross into the preserve, which was something he had no desire to do.

At all.

_Ever_.

So he took off, clumsily at first as his body figured out it wasn’t going into some kind of hypothermic coma, stumbling over roots and rocks before he got some kind of control over his limbs and fell into a steady pace he could maintain. It didn’t take him all that long to cut through the Hale property, zigzagging past the places that smelled more heavily of their pack scent, property markers and popular climbing trees. Luckily their land was expansive enough that he was able to run through it without picking up any of their lingering scent.

He was halfway to town, feet sore from the asphalt, having quickly concluded that it was crazy to keep trying to navigate the the tangled underbrush when there was a perfectly good road to run on, when he realized he couldn't just go home like he wanted and was apparently planning to do. When he showed up out of the blue he’d be questioned, his dad would be questioned, and the alphas at the police station would immediately be able to hear his heart skip when he tried to lie about where he’d been for the past week. They’d know he’d just had his heat, too, which would lead to all kinds of awkward questions. The kinds of questions that, when he didn’t immediately answer them honestly, would end with him being admitted to the hospital to undergo all kinds of not-fun tests to check him for things like pregnancy and any recent trauma invisible to the naked eye because of his quick healing.

_Did not think this thing through,_ he chastised himself.

He stumbled to a walk and tried to think about it rationally, but then remembered his conversation with Derek on the subject and realized he shouldn't _be_ rational, given what had happened to his classmates and almost to him, too. Stiles was an omega, one who had nearly been kidnapped in broad daylight by alpha look-alikes who had tried to drug him into compliance. The very thought of the condition his classmates could be in had made him freak out, even though he had been perfectly safe and surrounded by alphas. In addition to that, he had a _documented history_ of completely irrational behavior when put under an extreme amount of stress, so why not use that to his advantage?

He could stay like that, as a wolf, smelling like dirt and asphalt and not much else when he suddenly appeared in town. His dad would understand why, and he knew Dr. Deaton wouldn't push the issue or force him to shift. Stiles could wait it out as the police and others struggled to make sense of his unexpected arrival, and in the meantime he'd see what the council and the hunters were up to and try to stop them if he could. That way he’d also be able to keep the Hales safe from suspicion because he wouldn’t have to come up with a bullshit story until after everything had blown over and he changed back to his human form.

_One emotionally compromised omega, coming up._

The shift was quick and surprisingly comfortable, more like slipping into his favorite pair of sweats than having a half-wild animal tear it's way out of his body. So that was nice. A vague part of him wondered if it wasn’t a consequence of his close proximity to so many alphas over the past few days. He’d always found shifting to be easier when there had been a supportive alpha around, and apparently the same rule applied to a pack of them.

As a wolf the world came into focus with a sharp clarity his human senses lacked, but the excessive input of data momentarily overwhelmed him until he could begin to pick apart and make sense of the the different sensations, such as the thick scents of the forest and the incessant thrilling of insects and nocturnal creatures. All of it told him about the events of the night; the hunt occurring in the distance, the almost-full moon, a disturbance up the road.

Stiles' furred head swung in that direction, ears perking up to try and capture more of the faint sound. He thought it was a car, which didn't really concern him other than the fact that it could contain an alpha, which would mean they'd hear him in the woods and possibly slow down to investigate the lone wolf wandering without a pack, but he was still near Hale land, so perhaps not. It was also coming from the direction of Beacon Hills, meaning whoever was approaching was probably either going further into the outskirts or to visit the Hales, neither of which was a destination Stiles wished to go.

When the vehicle, something big and loud, rattled closer, he changed his course and went into the overgrowth on the Hale side of the road to wait. Except, instead of passing him and continuing down the road, the rusted paneled van rolled to a stop a little ways in front of him.

_Weird._

It was definitely not what Stiles wanted to have happen. He was still too close to the Hale’s property to risk being found out and have them be questioned about his proximity. Even without smelling like them, they still might be implicated in his kidnapping, especially if he refused to shift so he wouldn’t have to be caught in a lie.

_Crap._

The side door rolled open and three people slipped out, two males, one of them thickly muscled, and a petite female with a mass of wild blond hair. The passenger door opened as well and another female exited. Even as a wolf it as hard to make out facial features in the dark, but he had a strange feeling that he recognized the three from the back of the van, especially the blond girl. From what he could tell they all looked about his age.

_From school?_

They weren’t omegas, though, he knew that from the way they moved like predators, stalking back and forth beside the van with their faces raised to try and catch a scent on the faint breeze.

_His?_

None of his classmates had that kind of arrogant demeanor, it went against their social conditioning and, in part, their natural tendency to take up less space than others. No, they had to be betas or alphas to move like that.

"An omega," the thinner male said, the other two beside him nodded in agreement.

“Just the one,” the blond girl added, twirling a strand of hair.

“Perfect,” the woman standing at the front of the van said, then sing-songed, her voice honey-thick with dangerous intent, “Come out, little omega, we just want to help. Don’t you want some strong betas to take care of you?”

Which sent a jolt down his spine that made his hackles raise and basically told Stiles everything he needed to know about the unusual situation. It was like the beginning of one of the bad fairy tales, where a lone omega in the woods met up with a group of betas and was lured into joining them for some seemingly harmless or fun event. Those stories only ever ended in tragedy and were used to teach little omega children not to go wandering about alone and unprotected.

_Good job, dummy. That’s like the first rule of omegas: DON’T GO INTO THE FOREST ALONE._

But he hadn’t followed that sage bit of advice and he couldn’t call for help, not without alerting the Hales that he’d taken off, and he absolutely did not want to involve them in his drama anymore than he already had. The four hadn’t shifted yet, so he wasn’t entirely sure if they were all betas, in which case there was a chance he could outrun them on foot. Alphas would be trickier, especially if one of them _commanded_ him, but if they avoided that he might be able to lose them in the preserve. Maybe.

“Oh, come on little omega,” the woman said, she looked older than the other three, with wavy hair some medium color and a pale face. “We’ll take good care of you.”

And that was _it_.

Stiles bolted across the road, aiming for a dark patch between two trees on the preserve side, gambling on the fact that his sudden movement might startle them enough to delay pursuit. But he didn’t take into account the tranquilizer, or the woman’s ninja-fast reflexes.

He didn’t even make it to the center stripe in the road before a knife-sharp pain pierced his flank, making him yelp and stagger a few steps before his legs buckled beneath him and he crashed onto the pavement, a minty taste flooding his mouth. Stiles whined, high and hurt, but then the woman was there, wrapping something tight around his muzzle with a disappointed look on her face.

“It’s always the cute ones that cause the most trouble,” she said with resignation, like it was part of a conversation Stiles should have been able to follow, but it didn’t really make much sense to him. She looked over her shoulder and he thought he recognized her profile for a second before his vision warped and tunneled. “Boyd, Isaac, come lift him, he’s pretty big for an omega.”

_So they were from his school_ , he thought as his mind shut down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN


	21. Chapter 21

Looking back, running away from the relative safety of the Hale house had been a pretty stupid move, but it was one Stiles would have made again, given the chance. He’d rather be stuck in the cramped cage in whatever echoey warehouse they’d taken over as their villainous headquarters than face the horror of having put the Hale pack in danger. The they in the equation being the hunters.

_Of course._

It had taken Stiles all of thirty seconds to put two and two together once he finally managed to shake the grogginess from whatever minty wonder-drug they’d dosed him with. Being stuck in a cage was one strong indicator, his fellow omegas in chains and cages throughout the space being another, plus the fact that one of the more obnoxious beta males had straight up declared it when Stiles had asked.

_Assholes_.

Stiles wiggled, his butt numb from sitting on the uncomfortable metal tray that made up the bottom of his tiny prison. As a side note, he had also learned that when drugged by kidnappers, it was difficult to keep his wolf form, something he’d never needed to know, previously. It was good information to have on hand, though, just in case it came up in the future. Not that Stiles was keen to be tranqued and kidnapped again, or anything, because it definitely sucked. A lot.

At least his classmates, it looked like around thirty of them, maybe, seemed to be relatively okay. He identify some from the school bus and a handful of others, though not Scott, which he thought was pretty weird since the Hales had told him his friend had been taken. But whatever, he didn't have the best view of the rest of the warehouse from his segregated little corner of wonder. Stiles thought some of the other omegas actually looked a bit bored. None of them were naked like him, though, which Stiles felt was pretty unfair. The whole _being naked_ thing wasn't really what bothered him, he actually _liked_ foregoing clothing when that was an option, it was more the inequality of it and that the warehouse was kind of drafty. Plus, who kept naked teenagers in cages? That was not normal behavior.

"Does the little omega want to play with his friends?" One of his original kidnappers asked. Stiles was pretty sure his name was Isaac and that his dad had been an alpha and the town's gravedigger before he was killed during the run. And _that_ was certainly usable information. He gave himself a mental high-five and immediately thought that Derek definitely would have rolled his eyes if he'd heard about that self-congratulatory little gem. But whatever, he was proud of himself for connecting the dots.

"Dude," Stiles whispered, figuring he'd take a chance while it was still an option, "Isaac, what the hell are you doing helping these tools? Didn't they kill your dad?"

Isaac actually looked dumbstruck for a second, previous bravado shattered and replaced with a fragile kind of vulnerability that made Stiles’ heart clench in sympathy. But of course that lasted all of an instant before his dickishness was back in full swing.

"No tricks, omega, you can't manipulate your way out of this," he said, but there might have been a hint of uncertainty that hadn't quite been there, before.

Maybe.

Also?

_Pft_.

"Manipulate? Come on, dude. Did I ever manipulate you on the playground when we hung out in first grade? No, I seem to remember sharing my trucks when we played in the sandbox with Scott. Oh, hey, is Scott here? Is he okay? I didn't see him, but you guys didn't really give me the best view over here."

The conflict was back in Isaac's eyes, but just as he was about to open his mouth a female voice spoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting your little boyish flirting?" She didn't sound sorry, she sounded like the woman who had _shot him with a tranquilizer_. "You know this one is going to be auctioned off like the rest, but perhaps if you make arrangements with his buyer you can have a taste, later. But for now, open the crate and get him cleaned off so we can take some pictures."

And _that_ was a horrifying couple of sentences.

"You're going to _sell_ me?" Stiles said, outraged and flabbergasted and not quite believing what seemed to be happening. Of course he knew about the auctions, Mark's story had made him feel marginally better about that kind of a thing, but it was certainly not how things were done in Beacon Hills. Thinking about it put a sick feeling in his stomach and he wasn't entirely convinced he could keep the bile down. All that time they had thought the hunters were planning to hold a run, when they were really _selling_ the omegas they'd taken? A few of them weren't even old enough to _choose_ to run, let alone to be _sold_. And all without their parent's and pack's knowledge or permission. Not that the good people of Beacon Hills would support it even if they knew what was going on.

The woman, who still looked strangely familiar, waited for Isaac to open the cage and wrestle shackles onto his wrists before she slap-patted Stiles on the cheek with an insulting coo. "Don't worry, little omega, I'm sure _someone_ will want to buy you."

Right, because _that_ was his biggest concern.

She gave him a narrow-eyed look, "You're not tainted, are you? Not like your little friend, Scott. He's more of an insurance policy than anything, though, so don't worry so much about his skin when yours is the one up for sale."

Which was a partial relief, he guessed, knowing that Scott was supposedly unharmed.

"His name is Stiles," Isaac said, somewhat reluctantly, which was a marginal improvement over his previous blatant assholery.

_Maybe more childhood anecdotes could sway him into being less of a bag of dicks?_

Stiles wondered about that. They had shared some good times on the playground as youngsters, but then everything had kind of gotten messed up when his mom and Isaac’s dad were killed and all the adults had freaked out and he didn’t really interact with many betas after that, not even in school. The types had begun to voluntarily segregate themselves already, with the omegas serving as a kind of physical buffer between the alphas and betas, even as those two tried to keep the other from bothering their vulnerable classmates. It had been weird. He was kind of glad for the separate classes after that.

Isaac grabbed him by the chain hanging between the shackles and hauled him out of the cage to follow awkwardly after the woman as she strutted away from him and the other omegas toward the near end of the building.She led the way to a decrepit-looking set of exposed pipes that was probably originally used as an emergency chemical shower back when the warehouse had been a factory or something that was not a rusted and mostly empty husk. Whatever it was, Stiles did not like the look of it. The whole thing was a far cry from the glorious rain shower Derek had hidden away in his beautiful bathroom, but he wasn't going to think about that because it would make him sad and also probably anxious, which the betas would undoubtedly pick up on, even if they weren’t as sensitive to shifts in mood as alphas.

It turned out, the water wasn't as cold as the creek had been, but it was a near thing. Not having to keep his discomfort to himself that time, Stiles swore and flailed and managed to get Isaac nearly as wet as he was as the icy needles pounded into his flesh, but the woman sidestepped the mess with a knowing smirk and a shake of her head as she twisted off the punishing spray. His full body shivering, rattled the chains that weighed down his hands, the thick metal cuffs cutting into his wrists, even as his skin almost instantly healed. And that was a weirdly uncomfortable sensation.

"Ssso, uh, not that thiss isn't a fassscinating examination of group insssanity on a large sscale," he said, teeth rattling as Isaac fiddled with a professional-looking camera set on a tripod in front of where Stiles was quivering, "but don't you think having thiss kind of physssical evidence," he gestured noisily to the equipment, "iss kind of dumb when you're clearly breaking all kindss of lawsss."

Someone was probably going to glue his mouth shut, one day. The woman certainly looked up to the task, but she just shrugged. Stiles managed to get some of his violent shaking under control, and resorted to bouncing in place to try to warm himself up a bit.

"It won't matter if no one ever files an official complaint,” she said, examining her human nails.

Like _that_ made sense.

"Uh, I volunteer," Stiles said, and Isaac flinched where he was messing around with the camera settings or something that didn't really look like it was doing much of anything. It kind of looked like he was doing everything in his power to remove himself from the conversation, or to disappear entirely. And that was mildly alarming.

"Will you now, _Stiles_ , was it?" The woman cocked her head to the side, light brown hair settling in swirly waves around her shoulders.

He snorted, "It was." Lydia's derisive stares were much more potent than hers. Or maybe he'd just become immune to them.

She crossed her arms, pushing up her feminine curves in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive, but apparently Stiles no longer responded to that kind of a thing.

_Thanks, Derek._

Of course she noticed his disinterest and gave his naked body a long, lingering look.

"Interesting," she said, in a way that indicated she actually _did_ find it interesting, like it made her think of something else. "Take the pictures," she said distractedly. "Boyd! Come help keep the omega in line. We want clean shots and all the rest, you know the drill."

The large beta appeared as the woman stalked away like she was preparing to either hunt or seduce prey. Stiles wouldn't be too shocked if either were the case. Boyd was stacked with muscle, his dark skin bulging under his tight tshirt. He wasn't as nicely cut as Derek, _ugh_ , but he was huge for his classification. He had also been in Stiles' class before the dynamic segregation took effect in middle school.

"Hey, Boyd, how's it going? Kidnap any cute omegas, lately?" Stiles asked because he was Stiles and he could.

Boyd half-shrugged, slow and unconcerned. "Naw, not really."

Stiles snorted and clutched his chest, "Wow, ouch, dig that knife of derision a little deeper, dude!"

Isaac broke up their conversation by clearing his throat, glancing obviously in the direction the woman had gone and back at them.

"All right, kid, lets get your picture taken," Boyd said. Stiles wisely held his tongue about the whole kid thing, even though they were definitely the same age. It was hard to get a read on Boyd, though Isaac was clearly not entirely on board with everything that was going down in the super villain headquarters. Stiles had read enough comics to know he could use that fact to his advantage when the time came. Whatever time that might be. Escape time?

Boyd tossed him a scratchy towel and told to him wipe himself off.

"This isn't a weird kink thing is it?" Stiles asked as he did as instructed, nodding toward the camera. He wouldn't put it past the hunters to mix business with pleasure, but it still didn't make sense that teenagers his age were involved when there was no way they'd been part of the alpha killings at the solstice run when he was a kid. So what were they, new recruits?

Isaac shook his head from where he stood behind the camera. "No, we're just taking some standard pictures."

"Because it's totally normal to take naked pictures of underage, kidnapped omegas? Did I miss the day in school when we talked about this? Is this just a beta thing? Will it be on the final test?"

"Want me to take those off or not?" Boyd asked out of the blue, totally ignoring his question.

Stiles stared up at him, "Are you seriously threatening to rip my balls off for asking questions because I think that might be a bit excessive. Look, I'm even standing still and everything, this is an accomplishment for me, I think I deserve _some_ credit, here."

Boyd sighed and possibly even gave a hint of a smile, though it could have been a facial tic. He and Derek had that in common, the general not-smiling and tendency toward stoicism and obscene musculature. "The cuffs, Stiles," he said with just the barest hint of dry amusement. The superhero in Stiles crowed at his maybe success in gaining another possible ally.

_Hopefully_.

 

Taking the pictures was weird. After Boyd produced a key from wherever and uncuffed him, Isaac quietly called out instructions; turn left, turn right, look down, head up, arms back, and Boyd stood to the side and looked bored.

"These aren't going online, are they?" Stiles asked when Isaac finally decided they were finished and started clicking through the shots on the camera, probably to see how awesome they were. Because even though Stiles was weirdly naked and not entirely game for that whole adventure, he was pretty cool, anyway. Especially in pictures.

Boyd shrugged in response and Stiles frowned. "Dude. Not cool. That's weird and illegal and stuff. Right? There's no way that's lawful activity. That any of this is. Do you know how much shit everyone's going to be in when my dad, _the sheriff_ , finds out about all this? Hey, how about if you two let me go I'll tell them it wasn't you. That you guys weren't involved in the naked pictures or any of the other weirdness. I'll say it was that really strange beta dude who was creeping around my cage when I woke up and who told me you all were the hunters."

That seemed to rattle Boyd, if just a little. "Someone told you that? You sure you weren't just hearing things?"

"Was that a dynamics jab relating to the stereotype that all omegas are excitable and unreliable when upset? Boyd, I've gotta say I'm a little disappointed, I thought we were friends. Friends don't joke about each other's types, unless the joke's funny, in which case that's okay."

"We're not friends, Stiles," he replied, but Stiles was pretty sure he was lying.

Kind of sure.

He might be.

Regardless, Stiles could feel the discomfort the two betas were struggling to hide from him. It was becoming apparent that neither were entirely onboard with the whole thing, not when it involved some pretty serious criminal activities and naked kidnapped classmates. Or perhaps because it involved the only child of the town's head law enforcement official.

Boyd nodded a farewell to Isaac, then led him around the corner toward what was clearly an office turned medical-ish room. There was a gurney in the middle of the space, a portable sink and metal locker which Boyd opened to reveal a slew of medical supplies, and out of which he took something Stiles couldn't immediately see, too preoccupied with the handcuffs dangling from the bed at wrist and ankle-level. He didn't want any part of that.

 "Pee in this," Boyd said, thrusting the something toward him.

It was a specimen cup like he'd seen at the hospital when he and Scott had waited there after school sometimes for Melissa to get off work. They'd quickly learned not to play with all the sterile things they saw on the shelves in the nurse's station, though. One game of _awaken the mummy_ had ruined that dream. But they'd never taken much interest in the various empty jars and vials that were always around, figuring they weren't nearly as cool as the miles of gauze and silk tape. Scott had looked pretty cool wrapped up, though, even if Melissa had freaked out and cut off all of Stiles’ hard work.

  _Wait, what?_

"You want me to what?" Stiles said, eying the little plastic cup with suspicion. It was clear he was not on the same page with whatever was going on. "Do you think I'm on drugs or something because my dad is the sheriff and that would be a phenomenally stupid idea for me to try something like that. Not to mention that there is no way I'd ever get away with it, even if I was that much of an idiot."

Boyd gave him a long suffering look. "We know you're not on drugs, Stiles. That's not why you're going to do this."

" _Do this_ meaning peeing in a cup."

"Yes."

"Because you're testing me for diseases? To see if I'm receptive?"

"We know you're receptive, and I'm pretty sure you're disease-free."

Stiles made a frustrated noise, "Then I don't see why you're doing this."

"I don't see why you're not doing this," Boyd said, unflinchingly.

There was just something weird about the request, but Stiles couldn't put his finger on it. He mentally went through the list of things they could possibly be checking him for that required that particular kind of body fluid, and they ranged from the basic health screen to finding out if his diet was up to par.

_Oh_.

What if they used it to figure out he'd been eating actual food for the past week? Would they care? Would it matter if they did? No one had really brought up his unexplained absence, thus far, and he didn't think it was the kind of curiosity they'd keep to themselves if they really wanted to know.

"Soooo," Stiles drew out, glancing between the unmovable Boyd and the plastic cup. "Want to tell me what this is about, then?"

Boyd shrugged, "It's to see if you're pre-bonded, but if you refuse to do this the easy way we'll just take some of your blood, instead."

Pre-bonded?

"Dude, I'm not pre-bonded, you've met me, right? You know I've had absolutely no relationships ever. There's no way! _What_? Why would anyone think that?"

"All the omegas have been checked, Stiles, now; the cup or the needle? Kate's not going to be patient for much longer."

_Kate_? That was probably the creeper lady with the tranq gun and personal space issues. But why did that name sound so familiar? He knew the reason was just at the edge of his awareness, but he couldn't bring it to the forefront. It was going to bother him until he figured it out, he knew.

Stiles sighed, dramatically, and took the proffered cup. "Fine, I'll do it, but this is still weird. I want you to make note of the fact that I protested the peeing thing. And the naked thing. And the being here against my will thing. And that I'm not pre-bonded."

Boyd gave him a flat look, which was pretty much his only facial expression at this point. It was eerie.

"Noted," he said dryly, and deliberately turned his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! 
> 
> ps  
> The orange Stiles was fiddling with in chapter 8 showed up in chapter 11. Blink and you miss it.
> 
> This ship, guys...ugh...so many feels. We'll get back to that in a bit, no worries.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles could see why the other omegas were bored. The warehouse was _dull_. He was back in his cage, he still didn't have any clothes, and there was no one near enough for him to get more information from about what was happening. Which, really, didn't seem to be too much of anything. It kind of seemed like everyone was just biding their time, waiting for something to happen. Probably something terrible, knowing the hunters.

And wasn't that just _awesome_.

But at that moment in time Stiles was busy trying to figure out a more comfortable position in his drafty metal box, but it was clear he was just a wee bit bigger than whatever it was originally designed for, a racoon maybe, because his legs were cramping and his butt was numb. He had settled on an awkward-looking position with his knees butterflied and his hands wrapped under his inner thighs in a way that preserved at least some of his dignity, what little of it he had left. Honestly, he just wanted something between his butt and the cold metal, and his hands were pretty much the only things available to him.

The weird dude who had originally spilled the beans about them being the hunters cycled back toward him. It looked like he was going on rounds or something. To check to make sure everything was as anticlimactic as possible? If so, he was doing a great job.

"Hey, what are the chances of me getting some pants?" Stiles called when the guy was too close to ignore him.

He stopped, eyes flashing gold for a second when he looked at Stiles. It was not a normal look, either, even without the beta eyes. It was one of those hungry looks, like the ones that Peter had given him. Stiles kind of regretted drawing his attention. The dude was way freaky.

"Little omega," which was uncomfortably creepy every single time someone said it, "I can give you something better than that."

Stiles was very much aware that he was not talking about clothing, anymore. "Oh, cool," he said, trying to salvage some semblance of normality to lighten the heaviness of the overall situation, "so we're talking about, what, a full outfit or something? I would definitely dig some boxers and a shirt, too, since you seem to be feeling so generous." He said it jokingly, but the built-in danger sensor in his mind was flashing a big ol' warning.

The beta glanced around them in an obvious way that told Stiles they were utterly alone.

"Some of the others might have a problem with damaged goods, but I'm not all that picky."

And _what_?

"Excuse me? I am perfectly amazing." Stiles said, definitely no longer on the same page.

That earned him a snarled smirk, "Oh, little omega, you don't have to lie to me. I told you I don't mind taking someone's castoffs. You won't fetch much of a price, anymore, but it's really not about that, is it?"

Stiles’ skin felt tight across his bones as he stared up through the bars at the grinning beta. Something was very wrong with the situation and he didn’t exactly know what it was.

_Castoffs? Damaged goods?_

_Oh, holy no._

“Wait, is this about pre-bonding because I already explained to Boyd and Isaac that I am not, in fact, pre-bonded. Also, you’re feeding into the antiquated notion that an omega is only worthwhile as long as they’re what you call _untainted_ , which is wrong and dynamist and not at all progressively minded. Not that I’m even pre-bonded or anything, but still. You should really educate yourself and stop perpetuating stereotypes like that.”

The beta’s smile grew fangs. “Say it again, omega. Tell me you’re still pure. Let me hear your lie.” His eyes were gold again, solidly this time instead of just a flash.

Stiles was suddenly thankful for the cage. He could see some of the omegas a few dozen feet away looking at him, but none of them called out to anyone for help or really seemed to care that he was being targeted by the heavily breathing, wolfed out beta creep. He swallowed and looked up, knowing he’d have to help himself if he was going to get out of it undamaged. He hated feeling helpless. Hated feeling weak and put-upon and used and manipulated. Stiles let his anger and frustration grow as his own eyes blazed blue.

“I. Am. Not. Pre. Bonded,” he said in a clipped tone, a subvocal growl rumbling in his chest.

He wondered how much pressure the cage could take, and whether shifting into his wolf form would let him bust out of there and rip that asshole’s throat out with his teeth and then he’d howl in victory as the blood soaked his muzzle and _woah_ that was _a lot of aggression_ all of the sudden. Stiles blinked his eyes back to normal and stared up at the guy in confusion. He had no idea where that had come from, the rush of rage and an unfamiliar kind of feral power that dissipated even as he wondered.

The beta looked kind of confused, too, eyes still gold, but teeth back to normal. His gaze moved from Stiles to whatever was going on behind him, and he started to back away, claws, Stiles hadn’t seen those come out, retreating back into his fingertips as he moved away with his hands up in surrender.

“The kid wasn’t lying,” he called out before he turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

_The hell?_

There was a feminine sniff behind him, an amused and dismissive sound that had to have come from the mysterious _Kate_. Stiles twisted to look and immediately focused on the pile of clothing in her arms. That was a plus, if she was willing to share.

“Well, sweetie, looks like you have quite a story to tell me, don’t you?”

Stiles shifted and wrapped his fingers around the bars. “Hey, how about you give me some of those clothes and then we’ll talk.”

Kate cocked a hip out, head tilted as she looked him over critically, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “How about you tell me exactly where you’ve been for the last week so I don’t have to torture you to find out.”

“That’s not really much of a negotiation,” Stiles said. She didn’t look like she’d have much trouble with an interrogation. She had _shot him_ , already. “But I’m not unreasonable,” he said hastily when she stepped closer. “I just don’t know what you want me to tell you. I mean, where do you think I was? Wandering the woods, that’s where.” It was true, sort of. He had wandered for a little while at one point while with the Hales, and then again after he’d left them.

“I know where you were, kid, I just want to hear you admit it.” Her stance and tone brokered no argument. The semi-flirtatiousness she’d engaged in earlier was gone, replaced by a kind of dangerous impatience.

“I was in the woods,” Stiles said, injecting as much earnestness as he could into the statement. “I was freaked out and shifted and wandered around until I was able to shift back, and then you guys picked me up.” Kidnapped him, really, but she seemed about done with the conversation and he didn’t see the point in antagonizing her anymore than he already had. “Ask anyone, ask Boyd or Isaac or whoever, but that’s what I do when I freak out. I shift and wander around until I calm down and then you found me like that.”

“Kid,” Kate said, dropping the clothes to reveal a sinister-looking length of black plastic with a metal prong on the end. “I’m getting tired of you not telling me the entire truth.” She pressed something on the handle and an arch of blue light sizzled between the twin points. “I’ll give you one more chance, and if I don’t hear the answer I want, you’re going to regret it.”

_Holy gods the woman was psychotic._

No one treated omegas like that. Sure, they might intimidate and threaten and coerce, but actively engaging in what amounted to torture went against alpha biology and betas had been socialized against acting aggressively to omegas as well. They saved all that for tussles with alphas and other betas. What she was about to do, well that was seven kinds of crazy.

“Kate, Kate, please. You don’t have to do this,” he said, pressing himself back away from her, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go, really. Stiles was very much not above begging, not when the beta had such an evil look in her unshifted brown eyes.

_She was totally in control of her actions._

The wand fit perfectly through the bars and connected with Stiles knee in an earth-shattering explosion of pain that made him writhe and open his jaw wide in a soundless scream. He was convulsing even after she switched off the device and withdrew it from the cage.

“Where were you, Stiles?” she asked, sounding _bored_. LIke his bitten back sobs were tedious to listen to as he struggled to get his body back under control.

She moved to put the thing back in and he held up his hands like the other beta had, attempting to ward off her ire. “I swear to the gods I’m not pre-bonded, I don’t know why the test came up that way. Try it again, take my blood, I don’t care, but please just stop.”

Kate tsked and gestured with the baton. “Do you think this is all a game, sweetie? That we killed your mom and the others for fun? We’re changing the way people interact with each other on a fundamental level, but if you’re tainted, you’re not much use to us. I can’t kill your little friend because he’s my niece’s pet, apparently, but you’re not so lucky. Now, tell me who you were with so I can decide your fate. This is your last chance.”

Stiles blinked back tears of pain, mind quickly sorting through the information she’d just given him. Then it clicked, she was Kate _Argent_ , Allison’s aunt who showed up on occasion and then disappeared again. Kate Argent who had just admitted to being a part of the group who murdered his mother, and had made him half an orphan. Hearing that the mysterious hunters were responsible for his capture was very different from receiving a solid confirmation from one of their apparent ringleaders.

She tapped the weapon against the cage and clicked it on for a second, sending the current that shocked Stiles through the tray where he sat. He yelped and nodded frantically, eager to keep her from resorting to more drastic measures since he now knew she was capable of so much worse. The fact that she’d told him he was disposable made things even more desperate.

“Okay, okay! Please just stop with the electrocution. I did run off into the woods like I said, and when I called out for help a family found me and took me in and locked me in a heat room to keep me safe. I left when my heat was over. That’s it, end of story.”

She sighed, “Stiles, I know you were with the Hales. Even if you didn’t smell like them when we found you, there’s is the only land near enough to the preserve for you to have stayed without anyone else finding you.”

Yes, and of course he’d been found by evil betas instead of anyone else after he ran away because his life had devolved into the bad kind of fairy tale. The cage was an unexpected improvisation, though. Usually the betas in the stories just used chains or wolfsbane-infused rope or something of the like to contain the captured omega. He gave them points for originality, but deducted them for dabbling in torture and a super villain level of long-term plotting and insanity.

“If you knew I was there then why did you even bother asking me? Why go to these extremes?”

Kate twirled the baton carelessly, “I want to know which of them you’ve formed a connection with, who you’re protecting. An easily severed connection, of course. It isn’t as if you’re actually mated, yet, is it Stiles?”

He hadn’t even known he’d pre-bonded, but the sudden memory of the passionate stolen kisses in the heat room took on a whole new meaning.

_Oh, shit._

_Derek._

“Nope,” he choked out, “no I am definitely not mated. No mating here. Just a pre-bond, apparently.”

She made a considering hum, “So your pre-bond was accidental, then. Even better, though I’m certain we can use that to our advantage. You have already, it seems.”

_And what?_

He didn’t want to ask her what she meant. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d confused him again, and that she had the upper hand in yet another way. But he also really wanted to know what she was talking about.

_Damnit._

“What?”

Kate settled the weapon over her shoulder and idly clicked it on and off a few times, the electric buzz jarring after having been on the receiving end of it. “You’ve been here a day and you haven’t even asked for water. That’s the pre-bond. You’re sharing your intended’s stamina and strength, even though you’re separated from him. The fact that you’re not hungry or thirsty shows they’re an alpha. Now, I told you mine, so you tell me yours. Is is Peter or Derek?”

Stiles frowned, “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” she shrugged, swinging the baton to rattle across the bars of the cage, “but I want to know who to look for when he comes searching for you during _the run_. I want to know which of the unmated Hale alphas will I have the satisfaction of killing.”

_Derek._

_No._

Many long, painful minutes later she finally dragged the name out of him as he sobbed and shook, tears and snot wetting his face and dribbling onto the metal tray plastered under his cheek. His body ached from the abuse, but he knew the marks had already healed, that nothing she’d done to him would show up on tests or scans. That just made him feel even worse about it, that his pain, while extreme, was the only thing he had to show for the torture she’d subjected him to. That and his eternal self-loathing for uttering the name of his apparent pre-bonded to the conniving, evil beta.

_Would Derek forgive him for it?_

_Could he forgive himself?_

He barely registered her opening the cage and flinging something onto him, except that his skin still felt over-sensitive and he kicked off the scratchy cloth before he realized that it was, in fact, clothing. Stiles pawed at it, dragged something, a shirt, over his trembling legs, to at least cover himself as the tremors continued to wrack his body.

It took him awhile to get himself back under control, and it wasn’t until after he’d finally managed to wriggle into the hospital-style scrubs that he realized they smelled like Kate. It was a powerful scent, all potent spices and gunpowder. The combination made his nose burn and his eyes water.

Stiles pressed his forehead against the cold metal floor and let the tears flow into his short hair, battling with himself, his physical versus his mental discomfort. No clothes or her clothes. To be cold and naked or relatively warm and stink of her. He was so tired. So sore and heartsick. He wanted to lift his furred throat and howl out his pain and anguish and an apology to Derek and the Hales, but his limbs were too weak for him to shift and he didn’t even know if the cage would allow him that much space. There was no way he’d be able to escape, even if he could break free. There were too many betas lurking around and he was powerless to fight them all, especially if they were armed.

_At least not alone._

He finally lifted his head, scrubbing his face with the bottom of the shirt and looked over at where the other omegas were being kept. It was a stereotypical misconception among betas that omegas were helpless creatures existing only to be told what to do and who were more useful as servants than as free thinkers, but Stiles knew Lydia was the smartest person he’d ever met, regardless of type, and he wasn’t all that far behind her. If the betas could organize, so could they.

_He could still save Derek._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gave me a lot of feels. Fucking Kate, man. She's a menace.


	23. Chapter 23

So, there was a problem with his plan. That being his relatively secluded spot off to one side of the building, as compared to the more centrally located cages of his classmates. It made it kind of difficult for him to collaborate with them, since basic communication was pretty much impossible without a whole lot of unsubtlety. And it wasn’t as if he could just bust out some Morse code or a telepathic mind blast. Those were not things that were going to happen. So he was stuck, plan half-formed and useless.

_Unless._

"Hey Boyd! Isaac!" He called out. One of them was bound to hear him and come over to talk to him, or at least tell him to shut up. Hopefully they’d move his cage or something. He looked like the other prisoners in his not so fancy powder blue garb, so maybe they’d treat him like the rest.

"Problem, Stiles?" A female voice asked and he almost shouted in surprise before he realized it was just the third of his beta classmates who had helped kidnap him from the road. He sincerely hoped she was more of a follower of Boyd and Isaac's shaky faith in the cause than one of Kate's diehard disciples. She certainly looked intimidating enough with her blonde curly hair and well-done makeup to be one of the latter.

“Uh,” he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, “we were in school together, right? I’m pretty sure I remember you.”

Her glossy lips thinned as she smirked and tossed a curl of hair over her shoulder, then placed her hands on her hips.

“Yes.”

_Crap._

One-word answers were never good coming from annoyed beautiful girls. He’d learned that much from Lydia. The teen was giving off some vibes he managed to sort through after a second; a bit of turned-earth frustration and just a hint of the hot metal smell of worry that made him want to wiggle his nose. That wasn’t entirely bad news, at least. He wracked his brain to come up with her name. Edna? Ella?

“It’s Erica,” she said, clearly unimpressed with him.

_Erica Reyes._

“You kicked me in the shin in fifth grade!” he remembered. Back then she had her hair in messy pigtails and she’d always worn hand-me-downs from her older brother, an alpha who had gone on to join the police force. Stiles thought the brother had mated an omega a few years back, but wasn’t entirely sure. He worked in a different part of the department than his dad, something to do with forensics or scent samples or something.

Erica’s bitchface melted a bit and her smirk was slightly more amused, “Well you deserved it, you wouldn’t let me play kickball on your team.”

Stiles scoffed, “Yeah because clearly you were such a great team player as a kid.”

“I was good enough to beat you.”

“Only because you fanged-out and clawed the ball to shreds when your team was ahead, so you guys automatically won.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Erica grinned like she had when they were kids, eyes crinkling with amusement as the citrus scent burst from her in an invisible, happy cloud. Her joy was catching and Stiles found himself smiling back, some of the tension draining from his shoulders and back as he let himself appreciate the peaceful moment. Erica had always been one of the more rambunctious of his beta classmates, and it was nice to see she’d kept her sense of humor. He hoped she’d kept at least a part of her common sense as well.

“I wouldn’t mind having you on my team, now,” Stiles gambled, and immediately regretted it when her expression smoothed out and the smell dissipated into a non-scent he couldn’t get a read on.

_Damnit_.

“Erica,” he said, wrapping his fingers around the thin bars of his cage, looking up at her with a pleading expression, pushing his emotions so she could pick up on them if she was receptive enough to omega pheromones. “Please, Erica. My dad’s going to go nuts with me missing. Do you remember how bad it was when my mom died?” Everyone knew about Stiles’ break from reality back then, and the powerful impact both events had on his father, who’d barely managed to claw his way out of the bottle and back to sanity. “Well he’s all alone, now, and I can’t handle him losing it again.”

She glanced over her shoulder and looked back at him with what seemed to be an annoyed look, but he could sense her confliction. Almost like his plea was working.

_Maybe_.

“I can let Bryce know you’re okay,” she whispered. And that was so much more than he expected from her it made his breath catch.

Stiles wiggled his fingers and adjusted his legs as best he could, thinking about what she was offering. “But won’t that get you in trouble? I don’t know how you, Isaac, and Boyd got mixed up in this, but I know you’re not bad people. You don’t honestly believe in the hunter’s philosophy, do you? That alphas should be eradicated to make room for a more normative race of betas and omegas?”

He’d read some forums online during his copious downtime since Scott had started seeing Allison and what he’d found in the underbelly of the internet was quite alarming. He didn’t know who was worse, the hunters or the alpha separatists. Both espoused ideologies that touted their own superiority and domination over omegas while advocating for the wholesale slaughter of the third type. Sure, there was no love lost amongst their alpha and beta schoolmates, but it hardly called for mass killings.

_Right?_  

"Right, Erica? I mean, this is just some weird misunderstanding or a bizarre recruitment scheme gone wrong, isn’t it? That's what brought you and the guys in, right? You don't actually believe all alphas deserve to die, do you? That my _mother_ deserved what she got, that _your brother_ should be collared and killed?"

Erica wasn't looking at him, but her misery was thick enough to stick in the back of his throat with an uncomfortable kind of sawdust taste-smell.

"It's not that simple, Stiles," she lied.

It was that simple. The mass killing of an entire classification was _wrong_. It was _horribly terribly wrong_ , regardless of philosophy or any supposed justification. Sure, alphas were naturally more aggressive than the others, betas were more cunning, and omegas were more submissive. Generally. There were bell curves and spectrums of behavioral norms in each type, as well as individuals who portrayed traits from every standard deviation within those categories. It was impossible to put a person in a metaphorical box simply because of their classification, just as it was wrong to discriminate against them for the same reason.

“Erica,” he said, quiet and careful, “what’s happening here, this is wrong. Our classmates, our friends, are being caged and sold. Like we’re _animals_. This isn’t okay. You need to help us.”

She opened her mouth, but a bell rang somewhere near the other omegas and she took off without saying her piece, though there was a conflicted look on her face.

Stiles watched as a dozen or so betas filed out of offices near the front of the warehouse. They wore gloves and clear plastic aprons, and carefully handled armloads of the same drab clothing all of the omegas were wearing. As the beta reached each cage the omega inside awkwardly stripped off their scrubs and traded them for another set. Like clockwork.

_What?_

It was Kate who delivered Stiles' clothes as the others walked by without even looking at him. She wasn't wearing the same protective gear as the others and the clothes in her hands looked an awful lot like the ones she'd been wearing earlier. A pair of jeans and a black tank top, along with her wand of pain and tears.

"Do anything stupid and you'll regret it," she said in an annoyingly cheerful tone. "Take that off and pass it to me when I open this up. If you're good I'll give you these clothes in return. If you're an idiot I'll zap you and spray you with pheromones until you're dumb and drooling from it."

Stiles watched her warily, one hundred percent convinced that she'd follow through with her threat. He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, very much not blushing when she gave his body an appraising look. 

"That's what I thought, sweetie, be a good omega and strip for your mistress."

_What the fu-_

"What does that mean?" Stiles said, hands poised on the waist of his pants.

_Mistress?_

He hadn't signed up for a _mistress_. Well, he hadn't signed up for any of it, really. But the scent marking she was doing probably had something to do with it and oh.

"You're not auctioning me off. You're the one who's going to try to claim me during the run, aren't you?"

That made sense, in a terrible, horribly wrong kind of a way. If all of the omegas were already scented and had developed pre-bonds because of it, with whoever bought them during the online auction, then any alphas who ran wouldn't have a very good chance of finding a mate. It was difficult to break a pre-bond with an omega, moreso than with either of the other types. But that meant the run would have to be open to people outside of Beacon Hills, right? Stiles couldn't imagine that many betas from town would be interested in the black market underground omega dealers, unless there were more dynamists than he'd thought.

_Right?_

Kate was waiting for him to take his pants off, he realized. She was standing there patiently, watching him as his mind surged under the burden of newly realized information. If she was trying to pre-bond with him it probably wouldn't work, partially because Derek was an alpha, but also because their bond had been forged through a physical demonstration, not just through scent. 

He needed more information. "So, there's the slight problem of my pre-existing condition," Stiles said as he shimmied out of the scrub bottoms. He wasn't going to fight with her over the clothes, that he knew was a losing battle.

"Pre-bonds are easily broken," she said dismissively, "move and I'll shock you."

She opened the door to the cage and deftly traded the piles of clothes, then shut and re-bolted it. "That's a good boy, you'll smell like me for the run and when Derek comes, I'll kill him."

"As far as villainous monologues go, that's not very creative," Stiles said in an effort to keep calm.

_Derek was fine._

Stiles was going to figure out a way to stop her.

_He had to._  

Kate shrugged elegantly, which was weird, but she managed to pull it off. Maybe he thought that because she was still wielding a high voltage weapon and he was practically wrapped in highly conductive metal.

"What can I say, I'm not really one for dramatic flare, except for when I torched your mother's alpha propaganda. That, _that_ was pretty dramatic. It's a shame Peter made it out, alive, but what can you do."

Stiles was pretty sure he could hear the screeching noise his brain made when it came to an abrupt halt. "Do you mean you _helped_ start the fire, or that you were the one who actually started it?" he asked, feeling slightly dizzy as he clutched the clothes to his chest. The implications of her involvement did not go unrecognized. If she was the one who'd been seeing Peter, that meant-

"I did it," she said, like she wasn't turning his world on its head, "I destroyed the books, sent Peter to the hospital for the year it took him to recover, and I even pre-bonded with your precious alpha, Derek."

He was probably going to puke.

"Well, at least your speech got better. Definite points for creativity." His voice sounded oddly distant as his eyes loosely tracked her casual movements when she began to pace, like she was gathering steam for something.

"You know, my original plan was to burn the Hale house to the ground, but then I found out not all of them actually lived there, that they had cabins further back on their property. It would have taken a dozen guys to help me kill them all. Back then we didn’t have those kinds of numbers. After the run we had to kill off the guys from out of town so none of them would reveal who we were. Instead of killing the Hales I decided to hit them where I knew it would still hurt. Of course I didn't know at the time that Talia had already cleaned out most of the library’s archives. No, Peter showed me that, accidentally, of course, just like Derek accidentally revealed his family's living situation to me during one of our trysts. Neither of them were lazy lovers, I'll give them that, though I believe I was Derek's first, so I had to teach him a lot about how to do things properly. Does he still whimper when he comes?"

She said it all so casually, stretching out her arms as she walked like the whole thing was just a normal conversation and not a murder and arson confession.

_She was in-fucking-sane._

"Go to hell," Stiles said quietly, a tense kind of anger crawling under his skin and making his canine’s ache.

The whole situation was so messed up he didn't even know what to do, anymore. All he really wanted was paint his fur with the bitch's blood and was having a hard time talking himself out of it.

Kate stopped her pacing and looked at him, head cocked to the side and narrowed brown eyes focused on him. He realized he was growling and bared his teeth in a parody of a smile as the sound grew stronger.

“So the cub has a problem with how we do things? Sorry, sweetie, but you’re going to have to get over that if you want to survive the run.”

She flicked on the baton and rested it against the side of the cage, where it buzzed and crackled as the electricity surged through the metal.

The echo of Stiles’ howl chased him into oblivion.[  
](1554150)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus, Kate. Seriously?


	24. Chapter 24

Stiles woke up naked and surrounded by omegas. Not exactly normal, but he’d had worse experiences. Actually, most of those experiences had happened in the previous few days. Stiles spit out a strand of someone’s long hair and he had to blink a few times before he realized it was a familiar strawberry blond.

“Lydia,” he croaked, voice raw from something. Screaming? Had he actually howled? He couldn’t quite remember and his brain was fogged from the abundance of mellowing omega pheromones, smelling so florally peaceful it made him want to sneeze. That reminded him of something, too. Something. Important? Useful? Whatever.

The body beside him shifted and Lydia’s brown eyes, normally so wickedly smart, were glazed as she seemed to have trouble focusing on him.

“Stiles?” she asked, as if she weren’t really sure of his name, which would have been a pride-wounder a few weeks ago, but he’d given up his unrealistic dreams of the illustrious Lydia Martin the moment he’d realized he had feelings for one Derek Hale.

Which was a bit of a revelation.

_Huh._

He moved as much as he could so it was easier to see her. His legs were covered in someone, he wasn’t sure who it was, and one of his arms was trapped as well. “Lydia, what’s going on?” His words sounded slow and slurred, but everything was a bit off, so he figured it was just the scenting they had going on, and whatever had made him pass out to begin with.

“They’re going to make us run,” she said, but she didn't seem too concerned about it, even though she'd practically been pre-bonded to Jackson Whittemore since they were kids.

"But what about Jackson," Stiles asked, curious about Lydia's apparent lack of regard for her former flame.

She made non-committal noise. "What about him?"

He had a hard time believing she was truly so blasé about the whole thing, but then again she had always taken opportunities when they came to her, so he probably shouldn't be quite so surprised. None of their teachers had suspected of her being so intelligent until she'd entered high school and Mr. Harris had made a mistake on the board and Lydia had pointed it out with such precision and eloquence he’d been too impressed to be mad about having an omega correct him. It was a mistake that even their textbook had printed and later issued a correction online and  in the next edition. Something about fundamental biological drives and their relation to neurochemicals and how they affected each type. Whatever, the truth was out after that, Lydia’s uncompromisingly formidable intelligence had no longer been a secret.

Of course Stiles had known she was a genius since third grade, when she'd pointed out the statistical unlikelihood of either of them actually having careers of their choosing, and how she intended to circumvent the system and do so anyway. She had even laid out her plan for succeeding in her scheme, which had been quite comprehensive and a bit intimidating. He had remained an avid admirer of her tenacity, so the casual air with which she accepted her fate was highly suspicious.

Lydia's eyes drifted shut, then snapped open again. "Jackson and I never pre-bonded properly," she said with sleep-heavy slowness, "He was too afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself."

He was afraid, Stiles knew, because he didn't know how his biological parents had handled their natures, or even what their classifications had been. With two beta adoptive parents, he had never had true alpha coaching from an authority figure he trusted; not even Dr. Deaton had been able to break through to him. Stiles knew all of that because Jackson's father, Mr. Whittemore, had sometimes talked to his dad about cases and their sons, being in the same grade and all, had inevitably came up in casual conversation. Stiles had a tendency to eavesdrop when he was bored, which was how he knew all of that.

Plus, he and Jackson had a bit of a shared history, what with that one time and all. His dad and Mr. Whittemore still joked about it sometimes, as a way to relieve the tension the actual event had caused. Because nothing was more amusing than a pre-teen alpha and beta accidentally getting up close and personal with each other. Or something.

It had been the fall of their sixth grade year and everyone's hormones were just starting to come into play, when Jackson had cornered Stiles after a particularly grueling gym class. That was when they'd still had that kind of class together, before the segregation had kicked in the next spring. Stiles had been sore and tired and feeling sorry for himself. He'd had a crappy day and the last thing he'd wanted was to talk to one of the douchey-est douches to ever douche.  Of course that personal opinion probably had more to do with Stiles' jealousy over the whole Lydia situation than anything actually related to the alpha, but it was still a powerful motivator to dislike the pretty boy. But Jackson hadn't seemed to care about Stiles feelings, big shocker, and had confronted him over something trivial from class, Stiles wasn't even sure what it had been. It might have even had something to do with Lydia, but suddenly he'd found it inexplicably difficult to breath and his had vision started to blur. He vaguely recognized the hallmarks of panic, but couldn't remember any of Dr. Deaton's methods to circumvent an attack. Jackson, who was just wearing his boxer briefs, had sprung to action immediately upon sensing Stiles distress and had wrapped him in a tight hug.

It wasn't as if Jackson's classification had been a secret, and with that his adoption, since no two betas could actually produce an alpha child, but he'd rarely acted like a typical alpha up until that point. At least not at school or anywhere Stiles had seen him. The whole offering comfort to an omega thing was, therefore, highly unexpected, especially since he had always gotten the impression that Jackson wasn't his biggest fan because of Stiles’ largely innocent crush on Lydia. So, yeah, the hugging was highly unusual. Though Stiles would admit that it had been pretty much exactly what he'd needed, having been a few  years without that kind of contact from an alpha and being on the verge of a panic attack.

Scott, bless his interfering heart, had immediately gone and found a teacher to help break up the little Jackson and Stiles hug fest. Which, at the time, had not been what Stiles had wanted at all, but in hindsight was exactly what needed to have happened to prevent the two of them from pre-bonding, even if the likelihood of that happening to anyone their age was extremely low. The appearance of their beta gym teacher had, of course, set off the adolescent alpha, which in turn had made Stiles freak out and they'd both shifted, Jackson into his secondary form and Stiles into a wolf. The alpha hadn't let anyone get near the highly sensitive omega until Dr. Deaton had arrived and managed to out-alpha the adolescent. It had taken him a while longer to calm down Stiles enough for him to shift back, and after that he and Jackson had tried to avoid each other as much as possible.

_Good times._

But Lydia's sudden disregard for her longtime boyfriend was still pretty strange, when he thought about it. It was actually becoming easier for him to think, like the fog had slowly lifted from his mind. That was nice, even if the same didn't seem to be true for Lydia or the other insensate omegas. He focused on her and made sure they were making eye contact before he spoke.

"Who have they paired you with?" Stiles asked, then glanced around at their guards. It was their three classmates who had helped kidnap him and another young-looking beta he didn't recognize. Those were actually pretty good odds, considering there were over thirty omegas.

"Some high power public official. Smells like the courthouse." Her eyes were drifting shut again, the pheromone soup they were swimming in working against her, though Stiles was still able to think clearly.

He grabbed her arm and squeezed, "Lydia, we have to do something before they make us run, we have to stop this."

She pulled away and turned to burrow her head against one of their classmates, it looked like Greenberg. "Figure it out and let me know," she yawned.

Stiles barely managed to stifle his growl of frustration. Of course he finally managed to get close to the other omegas and he found them high and almost completely unresponsive. Even the ever-amazing Lydia. Because apparently that's how his life went. But if there was one thing Stiles was good at, it was ignoring things that didn't fit into his worldview and improvising a way to make things work. He wasn't going to let his classmates run and be claimed by the creepy strangers who had purchased them, just as he refused to allow evil Kate to kill Derek and force Stiles to be her mate.

First thing's first, he had to get out of the omega pile if he was going to affect any kind of change, but the question was how.

"Stiles," a familiar voice whispered and he whipped his head around to find the source of it.

"Scott?" he whispered back, rolling over a pile of three intertwined omegas and right into his friend's arms. They wrapped each other in a tight embrace,  faces pressed to each other's necks as Stiles breathed in the achingly familiar scent of his pack mate and friend. It was the smell of an early fall day, of lingering warmth in the air and the first signs of turning leaves. It was clean sweat and hot pavement. Family and home.

"Scott, you're here!" Stiles whispered against his friend's skin, his fingers dug into Scott's back even as the gesture was returned with even more exuberance. His ribs ached from the tight grip, but he didn't care enough to let go.

"Stiles, where have you been? We thought you were kidnapped with the rest of the omegas, but when I got here you weren't anywhere, and then Boyd came in the other day and you were unconscious and hanging over his shoulder. I thought I heard you howling earlier, but then it stopped. What the hell, man?"

Stiles pulled back to look into his friend's dark brown eyes. "What do you mean, we? Did my dad really think I was missing?" That didn't make any sense, unless he'd lied to Melissa and Scott to keep up the charade for the Hales. Or Talia had somehow duped Stiles into believing his father knew the truth, but he'd put that kind of doubt to rest after he'd confronted her about it.

Right?

Scott nodded slowly, but then stopped. "Actually, he did seem kind of calm, but I thought he was just trying to keep it together in public, for our sake. Where were you? Did you have your heat somewhere else? Are you okay?" Scott ran his hands down Stiles' arms, as if he could check him for physical damage that simply. It was still a sweet gesture, though.

"I was safe," he said, eying the beta guards, who seemed kind of bored watching the writhing pile of omegas snuffle and cuddle together in a giant puppy pile. One of them, Isaac, actually looked a bit jealous, but the others had slightly glazed expressions, which reminded Stiles of something. He shook the thought and focused on his friend. Scott looked fine, not even glassy-eyed or anything. That was weird.

"Dude, why aren't you drooling like everyone else?" He should be, that was one of the fundamental parts of being an omega, that others of the same type could help relieve and alleviate some of the tension from one while sharing their own feelings, until everyone's emotions were pooled together in a kind of pile that slowly worked its way to being a kind of calm collective.

Scott shrugged, "Guess it has to do with my thing with Allison. Honestly, that's why I haven't really felt like cuddling with you, either, it just doesn't feel as good as it used to. What about you? Dude. What. Happened?"

Stiles wasn't sure how much he should tell. Of course he wanted to share his whole story with Scott, and would eventually, but there were the betas to consider, even though Kate clearly knew the gist of what had happened and where he'd been.

"Okay, I'll give you the short version of things. I figured out that betas were taking over the bus, so I ran. The Hale family found me when I called out to them and they took me in."

"The Hales? Like, the Hale, Hales? Holy shit!"

"I know, right!" Stiles said with a broad grin, "Can you believe it, dude? They're actually pretty cool, so that was good. But anyway, they took me in and I forgot to take my suppressors-"

Scott winced.

"-and I ended up having my heat early, so they locked me in one of their heat rooms, it was pretty nice, and then when it was over I kind of freaked out about what was going to happen to everyone and ran away."

Scott's expression changed from open wonder to troubled, "Stiles, are you okay? Did they do something to you?"

He shook his head, "No, no, not really. Well, I mean, kinda. Okay, so I may have pre-bonded with Derek Hale."

"Dude, creepy Derek? You mean the kid who always followed us around and watched us at the playground when we were little? He's like, six years older than us."

And _what_?

But as Stiles thought about it he did seem to remember an ever-present dark haired youth who lurked in the background of many of his childhood memories.

"Huh, how about that? I guess so, yeah, but he's not really that bad, and he's not that old, either. Well, okay, so he is a little bit of a creeper, still, but no where near as freaky as his uncle."

"Peter? The guy who helped your mom out at the library?"

"How do you know these things, Scott? I barely remember these things."

Scott smiled, "Guess I just paid better attention that you. So, wait, you pre-bonded with Derek Hale, which is why you're not feeling the affects of the cuddling like everyone else?"

"Yes."

"And you're okay with being pre-bonded to him?"

"Yes. Very much yes."

"But we're stuck here, now, and you smell like Kate Argent, so what does that mean?"

Stiles worried his bottom lip, "I guess that means we need to get the hell out of here? I mean, We can't do the run. This whole situation is a freaking disastrous mess. This is wrong on so many levels, and we have to figure out a way to get out of here. That chick is super fucking crazy, Scott. She was the one who started the library fire, she killed the guys who killed my mom and the other alphas just so no one would find out she was connected to them. She is really ridiculously scary." He didn't mention the torture baton, though, figuring Scott would get worked up about it and possibly wolf out. He didn’t have the best control when someone he cared about was threatened.

"But what can we do about it? There are four guards and all the other omegas are practically useless right now. Even Lydia, which I did not see coming, I thought for sure she and Jackson had at least pre-bonded."

"I know, right?" Stiles said, distracted by the problems at hand.

They were problems he didn't know how to solve. Stiles tried to think about what he'd learned over the course of his schooling and his extremely educational stay with the Hales. He'd found out that his body, while not as strong as either an alpha or a beta's, was still just as much a weapon. There had to be some way to use their omega biology to get them out of it, since straight up fighting their way to the door didn't seem to be a viable option. He perked up as he realized he did know a few new tricks.

"I've got an idea," he said with a sly smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia! And Scott!  
> Damn you, pheromones!


	25. Chapter 25

After telling Scott his idea, then re-telling it in a different way, then explaining how it would definitely probably work, and then assuring him he knew exactly what he was doing, Stiles carefully maneuvered them both to the edge of the pile by where the unfamiliar beta was standing. He was the one who looked a bit pissed about the whole thing, but Stiles thought it might be because he was either bored or jealous he couldn’t participate in the cuddles. Thankfully, his leg was close enough to the action that it wasn't all that weird for Stiles to accidentally brush up against it until his hand was touching the skin of the guy's ankle, just above his sock.

He channeled all of his emotions into the light-blossom tree wrapped around his heart. He thought of how much he loved his father, of the comfort he got from hugging Melissa, and how happy he was to have found Scott alive and unharmed. He let the emotions roil and even out into a pulsing tempo that echoed the beating of his heart as they slid down through his arm and into the beta. The guy jerked as the wave hit him, but almost immediately his expression slackened and his eyes grew distant with the _peacemaking_.

So it didn't only work on alphas, or Derek, that was interesting.

Once Stiles was certain it had taken and that the beta wasn't going to figure out what had happened to him, he and Scott moved onto the next, which happened to be Isaac. He was a little more attentive than the other guy and noticed them approaching before they got to him. His expression was curious and he tilted his head to the side in question. Scott grinned at him and he smiled back shyly. Stiles used the distraction to get a grip on his leg and in a burst of emotional exchange, had the beta enthralled like the first one.

Erica was simple as well, allowing them to get close, and then when Stiles touched her she went under without a fuss, but it was Boyd he was worried about. The beta had such a flat affect Stiles wasn't certain how much energy it would take to put him under, or if he had that kind of emotion left to give. Stiles felt a bit drained from the previous three exchanges.

"Scott," he whispered, "I think you're going to have to help me with this last one." They were halfway to the beta, who was watching the warehouse entrance with a disinterested look.

"How am I supposed to help you if I have no idea what you're doing?" Scott whispered, doing his best impression of an army crawl and looking ridiculous.

That was a good point. "Okay, you just think of something that makes you happy, like pack, then you kind of funnel that feeling down your arm and to where you're touching him. It's a _peacemaking_ , dude, remember when Harris didn't really cover that in class that one day? Yeah, I figured it out when I was with the Hales."

"Well it looks pretty cool when you do it, but I'm not sure I can help much."

They were close enough to Boyd that they risked being overheard.

"Just try it, please."

Scott shrugged and they reached out together, each grabbing one of Boyd's ankles under his pants.

"What?" he asked in confusion as Stiles pushed his emotions into the beta.

Boyd tried to pull back, but they each had a solid grip. It was different from the other times Stiles had done it, almost like he had some kind of resistance built up against the intrusion.

"Think about Allison," he frantically whispered to Scott as Boyd's mouth opened, probably to call for help or something that certainly wouldn't benefit the omegas at all.

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and thought of the beautiful moment when he'd felt Derek beneath him, of the breathless kissing and scrape of stubble against his cheek. The next instant a heavy weight was pressing down on him and when his eyes snapped open he realized it was Boyd, completely insensate and laying half atop him and Scott.

"Well," he said, "I guess that worked. Come on," they heaved the beta aside so he sprawled out, several omegas immediately crawled on top of him, which had the added benefit of covering up his distinctive black uniform with their bare bodies. "Help me wake up the others. I think we can use the same kind of deal, just focus on energizing them and it might work. We better hurry before the other betas figure out what's going on."

Stiles started with Lydia. His heartbeat was already jacked up quicker than normal, his adrenaline pumping, so when he imagined racing through the woods as he pressed his hand to her shoulder he wasn't that surprised when her eyes opened and he sat up in a whirl of ginger-colored hair. He was even ready with his hand over her mouth when she tried to demand an explanation.

"We're busting out of here, help me wake up the others. Focus on making a kind of adrenaline burst when you touch them and it should work," he said, waiting for her to nod before he moved his hand.

He was confident that she was smart enough to figure it out herself, so he grabbed two of the others by whatever flesh was nearest and jolted them into consciousness with a whispered command to keep quiet before moving on to the next ones. It only took minutes with Scott and Lydia's help to wake everyone, and by that time they were milling around looking lost, but more alert than they Stiles had expected.

"Okay, here's the deal,” he whispered, glancing at the closed doors further down the warehouse where he’d seen the betas emerge from earlier, “we've being drugged with beta pheromones and you've all been involuntarily pre-bonded. These people are the hunters that killed the alphas when we were kids, and they've sold us all to other betas to keep us from mating with who we want, or from bonding with alphas. The scents that are covering you are from whoever bought you at their illegal auction. We are going to get the hell out of here and tell my dad about what's going on. Okay? Let's go."

Of course it wasn't that easy.

Greenberg, of all people, was the one who objected to busting out of there, ASAP.

"We don't know how many of them are there, do we?” he asked as he looked around skittishly, “We don't know where they're holding us, or if they have traps set up outside or anything. Do we even have any proof it’s really the hunters that are doing this? You said it yourself that we've been drugged, how do we know if what you're saying is true? You haven’t even been here for very long, you ran from the bus when the rest of us were taken.”

 Okay, so those were some valid points.

 Lydia put a hand on her hip and leveled Greenberg with an annoyed look, “We’re in an abandoned warehouse, which means we’re probably on the outskirts of town where they used to have industrial parks when we were kids. There probably aren’t traps outside because they clearly didn’t expect us to be able to overpower them, and Stiles has no reason to lie to us. I couldn’t have been the only one to hear him howling in pain, right? So, I’m leaving, are you going to come or do you like being enslaved?”

“But he’s right,” Stiles found himself saying, somehow managing not to sound as utterly reluctant as he felt, “we don’t have proof, but I know where to find it. Scott, Lydia, lead the others, shift if you have to and go to the police station. Tell my dad and any other alpha you see everything you guys can remember and I’ll meet you there.”

Scott protested, of course, but it looked like the first beta was beginning to stir and they were out of time.

Stiles grabbed his friend with a hand on the back of the neck and their foreheads pressed together. “I know what I’m going, Scott, just help me save the others and I promise I’ll be fine.”

“As fine as you were last night?” Scott asked thickly, searching Stiles eyes.

He managed to conjure a cocky grin, “Dude, you know me, I’m a total badass, I’ve got this. Now, please, they really need your help, go.”

It looked like he was going to protest some more, but then Lydia grabbed his arm and whispered something about Allison and his resolve visibly hardened as they led the way over to a rusted door that showed a solid bar of sunlight underneath.

Stiles crouched behind some piles of equipment, they looked like bags of mercenary supplies, which was in no way comforting, and nodded to Scott as he tried to open the door quietly.

It was locked.

He mimed pushing it, but that didn’t seem to work when his friend tried it, then Stiles flailed his foot and Scott got the message. It was a good thing he’d been working out because in two solid, if noisy, kicks the thing burst open and slammed against the metal side of the building with an awful clang. The omegas immediately sprinted for the fresh air, the bottleneck at the door only lasting seconds before they were all swallowed by the blinding outside light.

A second later the inner doors opened as well, and, seeing the omega pile gone, the betas immediately began yelling instructions and orders and exclamations of disbelief in a chaotic scramble that would have made Stiles laugh if he wasn’t trying to make himself as innocuous as possible. The previous order and calm was gone in the face of the clever omegas and their unexpected escape.

It took them minutes to get organized, with Kate suddenly appearing and screaming at them to go find the beasts, her hair and eyes wild as she wolfed out, her words almost unintelligible due to her hangs and the slaver dripping from her mouth. She led the charge, eventually, and a dozen betas followed with flashing yellow eyes and tranquilizer guns in hand.

Stiles waited until the sound of pursuit had faded before he cautiously crept from his hiding place and moved with bated breath down the broad building toward where he’d been kept. His cage was empty, of course, Kate’s clothes lay in a pile beside it, but that was the last person he wanted to smell like, so he ignored them. He took the same route she and Isaac had shown him, past closed doors and the decrepit shower, until he found where the camera had been set up.

It was still there.

He couldn’t believe his luck, but didn’t wait for the tremulous rush of relief to fade before his shaking hands were plucking it off the tripod and popping open the casing to reveal the sd card still inside. The card that undoubtedly contained pictures of every single omega the hunters had captured and sold in their illegal action. It was the evidence his father would need.

_But would it be enough?_

Stiles just wanted to get the hell out of there, but if his dad didn’t have a solid-enough case, he wouldn’t be able to charge Kate Argent and the others. They’d walk free. The council, who might have sanctioned the charade, would still be in power and things would just continue to get worse for the alphas and omegas as corrupt betas kept control of the town.

_No._

Stiles put the card back in the camera and ran on the balls of his feet to the medical room nearby. He snapped a few pictures of it, then of the shower, his cage, his vantage point of the warehouse where Isaac, Erica, and the other beta were starting to figure out there was something wrong, though Boyd was still passed out on the floor.

He slipped the card out of the camera and into his mouth, pressing it between his cheek and teeth like prisoners sometimes did with razor blades, according to his dad. He figured the forensics unit could still pull stuff from it, even if it got wet. Stiles set the camera down and cautiously retreated back toward where he’d been, assuming there had to be an outside door around there somewhere.

In the background he heard what sounded like Erica yell for Isaac and the other guy to follow her, and then there was silence. He breathed out in relief and renewed his search, still cautious, but no longer quite as afraid of being caught since it seemed most, if not all, of the betas had gone searching for the omegas.

Stiles’ hand was poised to open a random door when it was pulled open from the inside and he was face to face with a man who had arrived in Beacon Hills shortly before the solstice run and had quickly distinguished himself among the betas. He was the understood leader of the council, even if they claimed not to have any one authority figure among them.

“Gerard?”

The old man stared at Stiles for a beat before he grinned, yellowed human teeth looking far more menacing than any fangs.

“It looks like I’ve found a wayward cub,” he said as two more betas clad in the black uniforms of the council guards slipped around him to box Stiles in. They were even collared like alphas, but he knew better than to believe it after what he’d seen so far from the hunters.

Stiles carefully tongued the sd card to the back of his throat and waited until there was enough saliva for him to swallow it without choking, all the while glaring at the apparently unconcerned judge of Beacon Hills. It went down surprisingly easily even as his stomach churned with the realization that he wasn’t going to get out of there with his classmates, that he was trapped with Kate Argent’s geriatric father who was clearly behind the entire terrible series of events, from his mother’s murder, to the fire, to the kidnappings and forced pre-bondings.

“Why?” he asked, voice cracking as he stared at the man.

His eyes flashed for an instant and Stiles would have stumbled back if the two guards hadn’t had such a strong grip on his arms. Gerard’s eyes weren’t yellow, they were _orange_.

_What the hell?_

He really should have seen the right hook coming, but it took him off guard and he gasped as pain erupted across his cheekbone. A vague part of him was glad he’d thought to swallow the card or else it would have probably broken against his teeth from the hit.

The uppercut was to be expected after that, and the subsequent kicks to the ribs when he hit the ground and cried out and cursed the evil old man, who was talking, actually. He was telling Stiles everything.

_Just like in a comic book._

But Stiles certainly hadn’t anticipated it hurting quite so much to be on the receiving end of an actual villain monologue. Kate’s was tame compared to Gerard’s beleaguered account of things, casting betas as the underdogs of a centuries-long crusade for power. If Stiles hadn’t been in the process of being beaten bloody, he would possibly have found it in himself to relate to the old man’s story.

_Or not._

“Born alphas were put on earth to show us how dangerous it is to give into our animal nature,” Gerard droned, delivering half-hearted kicks to Stiles unmoving form. He’d curled up in the fetal position some time ago and refused to react anymore to the deranged old man’s beating, instead trying to stifle his cries against where his face was pressed to his biceps. “They are born with a defect, an incurable kind of wildness that prevents them from functioning rationally and thus endangering the rest of us. My wife was savaged by an alpha, and not even the miracles of modern medicine could save her. Omegas, on the other hand, are at the opposite end of the scale, so easily manipulated they are also dangerous when allowed to associate with alphas, or when they’re unmated. Only betas are balanced. They have control of their animal nature, they aren’t animals, not like the others.”

It was almost verbatim of what Stiles had read on the forums espousing beta superiority. It was also all kinds of wrong. But there was something about what he said that nagged at Stiles. Something weird.

_Right._

“Then why are your eyes that color, if you’re such a superior being?” he asked, spitting out blood and feeling his aching body slowly heal the damage while Gerard was temporarily distracted by his question. Orange was very much not a natural eye color, it was either red, yellow, or blue. Alpha, beta, or omega.

Gerard bent down with more grace than Stiles would have thought an older guy could demonstrate, though he had proven himself surprisingly spry during the tireless beating.

“Born alphas are damaged beyond repair, but created alphas are different.”

_And what?_

Stiles felt his face blanche in horror, “Created alphas? That’s not possible. You are what you’re classified as, you can’t change that.”

It was one of the universal truths, one of the rules of the universe, like gravity or the conservation of energy. Alphas were neither created nor destroyed, you were born as whatever classification you were born as and nothing could change that. There had been programs in the past, Stiles knew, grotesque experiments aimed at trying to alter people’s basic biologies, mostly trying to weaponize omegas, to make them more like alphas during wars when there were shortages. They had never worked, according to his mother’s books, and Stiles believed it but for the glowing orange eyes staring down at him with derision.

“Apparently you’re wrong, boy,” Gerard said with his sick smile. “Now, where have your friends gone and how did they escape?”

The two not-alphas hauled him to his feet and the esteemed judge pulled back his arm to deliver what was certainly going to be an incredibly painful gut punch when the door behind him slammed open and another Argent stalked in. It was Allison’s dad and Stiles would have been slightly relieved to see him if he weren’t decked out in black combat gear not unlike the faux guards, though he wasn’t wearing a fake collar or the sigil on his sleeve.

“Gerard,” Chris said, brow furrowed as his pale eyes quickly assessed the situation, flicking from his father to Stiles to the blood on the floor and back, but his expression didn’t give anything away. “Some of the omegas have reached the station and are telling the sheriff everything. We need to go before they track their scents back here. We should torch the place and get out of here.”

But Gerard clearly wasn’t done, and refused to be rushed. “Now, now, Chris, I was just telling Stiles our plan. Call your sister and have her meet us so we can finish this. I hardly think the sheriff would want to prosecute his daughter-in-law and her family, certainly not when his son is unwilling to testify against us.”

Stiles wisely kept his mouth shut about exactly what he wanted to do to the evil old guy. He’d actually sort of liked Chris before all of that. The beta had been a bit standoffish at first, but after he’d grown reluctantly okay with Scott and his daughter dating, Stiles had spent some time talking to him about random things like vehicle maintenance and how strange it was that Beacon Hills didn’t actually have a beacon. But since he was clearly in league with the council, with the hunters, Stiles felt his previous camaraderie vanish under the unmistakable evidence that he’d known about, and perhaps even assisted in, the alpha killings. In his mother’s murder.

Chris looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back. “Gerard,” he said, clearly not looking at where Stiles’ cheek was finally starting to heal. “We need to go. They may not have connected you to the kidnappings, but if they come here and smell your scent then it’s all over.”

Gerard scoffed, “It’s hardly over, once we secure this one to your sister it’ll only be a matter of time before I’m able to perfect the shift.”

And that didn’t make any sense.

“What do I have to do with this?” Stiles asked.

He was rewarded with the gut punch he’d expected before and Chris’ muttered curse as he turned away from them.

“You, my boy, are going to give us the information we need. I know you read the archives before Kate burned what was left of them, and I know you have the knowledge we need to complete the transition. After that, I will be the first changed alpha in a century. We will alter the history of the world.”

_Holy hell._

Gerard was even crazier than his daughter, which was really saying something. Stiles looked at Chris, not even bothering to hide his incredulity. The beta’s brow was furrowed, but other than that he didn’t betray how he felt about his father’s batshit proposal.

Surprisingly, Stiles did remember a story that sort of went like that. It was some weird fairy tale about an over-reaching beta who had slaughtered a group of young alphas and then had eaten their hearts in order to take their power. It hadn’t actually worked, though. He’d gotten sick, and as punishment for his crimes he’d turned into a statue or something weird like that. It had never been one he’d liked to read, and when he’d brought it to his mother’s attention she’d told him it was a cautionary tale and left it at that.

But if Gerad thought Stiles had the answers he was looking for, he’d probably stop at nothing to get them. If so, Stiles would just have to deliver something as close to the truth as he could. At least until he figured out a way to get out of the situation. He looked at Chris and when he saw the slight flicker of fear in the man’s eyes his resolve hardened.

_Omegas could be cunning, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argents!


	26. Chapter 26

Stiles had always loved fairy tales. Like he’d told Derek, they were his favorite things to read when he was a child, and even after the books had burned he’d often thought of them and the morals hidden within. Some were not so hidden, like in the beta story Gerard was obsessed with, but had clearly never actually read. That moral was simple, reach for a power not meant for you and suffer the consequences. The end. That was it, but somehow the message had been twisted before the beta had heard it, twisted in a way that gave him a strange kind of false hope, a hope Stiles would gladly exploit.

“We have to make a ritual circle,” he said, calming his heart rate and breathing so none of them could sense his lies. If he made himself believe it, like his father had taught him, then no one would doubt his sincerity. At one point he’d even convinced himself that his hair was green, just to see his dad laugh when he’d been unable to detect the telltale skip in Stiles’ heart rate when he declared it one night over dinner. If he could fool the sheriff, he could trick the hunters.

_He hoped._

Chris looked at him with narrowed eyes, “A ritual circle?”

Stiles nodded and snorted, “Hey, I’m the one who’s read the story, right? Now, are you going to question me about everything I say or are we going to get this show on the road. I find it ridiculously creepy that you guys are beating and interrogating me, especially since I’m underage and naked, so I’d really like to move things along and hopefully get some pants at some point soon. So, ritual circle. It has to be done outside, of course, preferably in a field or clearing if you can find one.”

There was a perfect spot not far from the industrial complex, near to the preserve and in a position easily reached from the road. If his dad and the others came looking for him, they’d have to pass pretty close to it on their way to the warehouse.

“Oh, yeah,” he said as the two guards began to drag him after Gerard, with Chris following behind. “You’re going to need a dozen betas to help complete the ritual.”

Gerard turned at that, eyes flashing again before they went back to their normal dirt brown. “Betas, you say? Are you certain?”

So he’d clearly heard at least something that might be accurate, but Stiles gave him a mulish look. “Yes, betas, that’s what I just said. A dozen of them. Twelve. Twelve betas. And a ritual circle.”

The judge casually backhanded him then turned back to lead the way further into the warehouse proper. Stiles could feel blood trickle from his nose as he glared at the man’s back. They passed Boyd on their way to the door where the omegas had fled and Chris nudged him and when he responded, helped him stand, supporting some of his weight as the large beta shook his head as if to clear it. The two of them spoke in low voices as they all followed slowly outside into the blinding white of the midday sun. Stiles thought he heard his name mentioned, but otherwise couldn’t make out what was being said.

The guards shoved him into the back of a conspicuous black SUV, Chris and Boyd sitting on either side of him while one of the fake alphas drove and Gerard sat up front with a phone pressed to his ear.

“Kate, I don’t care, meet us at the field near base. Yes, yes I know they told the police, but that doesn’t matter. Bring as many of us as you can gather. Now, Kate, we don’t have time for that. Yes, I have your prize with me. Come and you can claim him properly.”

He hung up and Stiles glanced from Boyd to Chris, trying to make eye contact with them, but neither would look at him. He hoped his plan would work, but it was a significant gamble, especially since it seemed like Gerard was going to actually be able to gather twelve other beta hunters and didn’t seem all that concerned about performing the ritual.

The drive was short and before Stiles could try sowing the seeds of deceit or anything like what he’d seen hostages do on tv, he was dragged out of the vehicle and made to kneel in the dead grass of the field. The sky was clear and the sun was bright in the openness of the late spring air, baking the earth and heating Stiles skin. He’d burn soon, if left exposed like that, which, while it wouldn’t last long, was still painful. He hoped he could figure out a way to escape before that happened, or before he was involuntarily bonded to a psycho arsonist.

“Well?” Gerard demanded, standing tall in front of Stiles with an expectant frown.

Stiles concentrated on the task at hand and gave an easy shrug, “Make a ritual circle, like I said. You’ll need a tree branch or a stick to carve it into the ground if you haven’t already prepared the proper mixture of herbs to set it that way. Yew is fine, but ash is best. Don’t use pine, though,” he said, hands up as if to ward off the wood one of the beta guards was holding. He dropped it and wiped off his hand on his black pants.

Stiles smiled on the inside.

Gerard’s hand was on his throat and Stiles felt his face get instantly hot as the blood supply was cut off. “If you’re toying with me, boy, I’ll take it from your hide,” he whispered, breath smelling like something had died and was slowly rotting him from within.

He tried to recoil and was eventually let go to fall against the hard dirt. Stiles coughed and panted for breath, watching as Chris and Boyd studiously ignored him, though he was fairly certain the large beta had taken a step closer when Gerard had attacked.

_Interesting._

The guard came back with a different stick, yew, surprisingly. Stiles had just picked a couple of trees at random, he hadn’t expected any of them to be growing in close proximity to the clearing. Gerard took it with a smile and glanced at Stiles.

“I draw the circle, then what?”

Stiles kept himself calm and _believed_.

“All of the betas, the twelve, need to be in the circle before you complete it. That’s the only way the spell will work.”

“You’re certain it will work if I do that?” Gerard glanced at Boyd, who shifted his features to their other form, his forehead wrinkling and fangs out, tapered ears and scruff.

Stiles knew he had to get this right, he had to say it again, without his heart betraying him to the beta’s enhanced senses. In his mind the tale he’d read as a child changed and was rewritten with the new truth laid before him.

_He believed._

“Yes,” he said, eyes trained on Gerard, “you draw the circle in the dirt with the twelve betas inside. You cut out their hearts bare handed, one by one and eat them raw. If you do this without the circle being breached, you will become an alpha.”

“A changed alpha,” Gerard corrected, smiling with maniacal glee.

Stiles swallowed and nodded, “The first in a century.”

On the gentle breeze Stiles caught a hint of the scent of hot metal.

_Worry_.

He looked up and met Chris’ light eyes with a steely sort of steadiness he hadn’t known he possessed. Stiles wanted to think it was Derek’s unseen influence, their pre-bond making him braver than he’d ever been, before. If he did this, if he gathered all of the betas together, where his father and the others at the police station could trace them, then he and the Hales might make it out of this thing alive.

_He had to try._

Gerard’s phone buzzed, jolting Stiles out of his thoughts and back to where he was still kneeling on the baked earth in the hot sun. His arms and thighs were pink, already, and he’d no doubt peel before the end of the day like some kind of a freckled snake.

“Kate and the others are on their way,” Gerard announced, reading the message. Chris nodded and turned to watch the treeline for signs of movement. Boyd had shifted his features back to normal and went to stand off to Stiles’ side, keeping track of him without being too obvious about it. The guards both took up positions beside Gerard, studiously ignoring Stiles and the stick in the old man’s hand.

_Interesting._

The others arrived with fanfare, a running group of betas thudding through the forest and into the clearing, growling and snapping playfully at each other, like they were cubs on a merry run instead of racing to their doom. Stiles suddenly had the feeling he’d made a terrible mistake in bringing them all together. Dread curdled his stomach.

The betas surrounded him and the others, most of them half-shifted with grotesque, eyebrow-less faces, fangs bared and eyes shining a jaundiced yellow. The most sickening part was that he recognized some of them. They were from the established beta families of Beacon Hills, the sons and daughters and cousins of council members. He’d played with them and their children in the park, had gone to school with them and their siblings, had been taught by them in class. The sense of betrayal buzzing through his head was almost too much to handle.

And then he saw Kate Argent.

She looked unhinged, her hair wild like it had been when she’d led the previous charge, fangs out and eyes glittering gold. He’d never seen a beta look so wolf-like, and the feral nature of her partial shift unsettled something deep inside of him. If he was wrong, if help came too late, he’d be her unwilling prisoner for the remainder of his miserable life, just like in the foundation story Talia had told him.

There were more than a dozen of them, all told, and Gerard’s glee was palpable over the natural baked earth smell and the milling scent of the betas. He clapped his hands or silence and they obeyed immediately, which surprised Stiles, though it probably shouldn’t have since Gerard was an honored public official. At least as his day job.

“Friends,” he called out, “today we will make history. _You_ will be a part of history. With your help, we can change the face of the world, we can overcome biology and rise to the top of the evolutionary chain. Together, we can rule everyone.”

Members of the crowd nodded to each other, some looked eager, while others carefully composed their features to betray nothing of how they felt about his proclamation. Stiles stared at Boyd, whose brow was furrowed as he watched their leader gesticulate.

“There is just one thing I ask of you all,” he paused then and surveyed their expressions of true and faked eagerness. Some of them clearly knew when to shut up and play along. “What I ask is that you help me accomplish this glorious achievement.”

A few of the betas actually cheered, like Gerard was a general calling them to war or someone other than a completely insane manipulator intent on killing them all with his bare hands. Stiles swallowed and glanced at Chris, who was watching his father with a wary look, Kate grinning eagerly at his side.

“Now to do this,” Gerard said as the cheering grew quiet, “I will need the help of my wonderful children, who have cared for and supported me since they were cubs.” Chris certainly didn’t seem to agree with that statement, his jaw was clenched tight as his hands made fists by his sides, but Kate was still smiling widely, and strode up to her father without reservation.

Gerard whispered something to her that Stiles couldn’t hear and the next thing he knew she had a gun in her hand and three betas were collapsing to the ground with startled groans. Chris waited a beat before he drew his own weapon and took out a couple more while his sister shot with precision until the chamber was empty. The betas were only stunned, Stiles saw, the darts stuck in the meat of their thighs or backs if they’d tried to run. Some succeeded, racing off into the woods with frantic shouts of alarm, but easily a dozen lay sprawled disjointedly on the ground around them. Boyd was one unfortunate victim, as was Erica, but Stiles hadn’t seen Isaac in the group and hoped his classmate had made it out of there undamaged. He knew it was stupid to want the beta to survive, but he’d seen the doubt in his eyes when they’d heard Kate’s plan for Stiles.

“Line them up,” Gerard ordered, taking the stick and dragging it across the ground, making the circle Stiles had told him to create.

_It was insanity._

An insanity that Stiles had helped foster, he realized with a jolt. He’d lied so convincingly that Gerard was actually going to go through with it. He was going to rip into the insensate betas and eat their still-beating hearts because he believed it would grant him a kind of fairy tale brand of ultimate power. Because Stiles had told him it would work.

An unfamiliar kind of feeling began to grow within him and he wondered if perhaps it could work, if the fairy tale had been intentionally written with alphas as the victims when all along it was truly betas who could grant the power Gerard so desperately sought. Stiles shook his head and realized the circle was almost complete, with him and all three of the Argents still inside.

Gerard was muttering something, something that sounded a lot like an incantation and it made Stiles’ skin crawl with the realization that he might actually know some magic. Not many wolves could perform actual spells, that was more the purview of other creatures, but some had a kind of spark that allowed them to do simple things, like create unbreachable ritual circles. Stiles stumbled to his feet, to run, to get out of there before he was trapped, but Kate was on him, her clawed hands seizing his arms as she laughed in his face.

“Not so fast little omega,” she said, “you’re mine, remember?”

_Like he could forget._

“You’re going to let your dad kill all of these people?” he whispered, trying to convey the horror he felt through where she touched him, but she was wearing leather gloves, so the contact wasn’t quite enough to try a peacemaking or any kind of emotional transfer. Though of course that also depended on how susceptible she was to that kind of thing in the first place. Her answer was cut off by the sound of tearing and they both turned to stare at where Gerard was slicing through the shirt and into the chest of one of the prone betas.

Stiles cried out in horror, jerking away from Kate, who easily let him go as she watched, expressionless as her father cracked open the man’s sternum and lifted out his beating heart, severing the joining parts with his claws. There was so much blood. It coated Gerard’s hands, dripped down his forearms and splattered hollowly onto the parched soil.

Stiles fell to the ground and scrambled away from Kate, but found the circle to be enchanted like he’d suspected, locking him inside with the the Argents and the doomed betas. He heaved, but knew his stomach was empty except for the camera’s sd card, which he didn’t want to lose, but the urge to vomit at the sight and sounds of Gerard actually eating another person’s heart was too great. He choked it up and spit it out, quickly covering the delicate plastic with dirt and dried grass, but it didn’t really seem to matter because neither Kate nor Chris were looking at him as they watched their father move onto the next victim, his mouth coated in the blood of his first.

He was methodical and tireless as he went from body to body. His fourth was Erica, but despite Stiles’ frantic pleas he did to her like he’d done to the others. Gerard’s eyes were blazing orange, a sickly kind of color that made Chris look away and Kate’s grin to return. She seemed eager to follow in her father’s footsteps.

“Looks like you might have an alpha mate, after all,” she whispered, crouched down beside where he was curled up with his head against his knees. Gerard grunted out a belch when he finished devouring Erica’s heart. “If this works, we’re going to start a new race that the others will be powerless to stop, and you will be the one who made it all possible. Don’t worry,” she said when he looked up with angry tears in his eyes, “you’ll have a place of honor as my mate. Besides, you’ve kind of grown on me, you’re cute and you’ve proven yourself clever.”

_Not clever enough, apparently._

Erica was dead because of him, and nearly half a dozen others. Boyd was next in line unless Stiles could stall Gerard enough for help to arrive. If help was even coming. He had one last chance.

Stiles forced himself to his feet, refusing to meet Kate or Chris’ curious gazes. Instead he focused on the bloody mess of Gerard’s shifted features, looking more animal-like with each meaty bite.

“I lied,” he said.

Gerard stopped, tilted his head to the side as his fiery orange eyes stared at Stiles’ chest. The heart of his latest victim gave one more pulse, blood dripping from the severed muscle, before it went still in his clawed hands.

“I lied about the ritual to lure you out here, to make it easier for the alphas to find and kill you. The story didn’t end with a beta changing, it ended with him getting sick and dying or turning into a statue or something as a warning for betas not to reach too far, and to know their place in society.”

Stiles lifted his head in defiance, showing his throat as a challenge instead of an invitation. He was playing with so much fire, but he couldn’t stop there.

“You’re murdering your own people for no reason,” he said.

Gerard still hadn’t moved, his hideous face betraying nothing as a trail of red dribbled down his chin and onto his starched white shirt.

It was Kate who spoke, sidling beside her father, “You can’t trick us, kid, just look at him and you’ll see it’s clearly working. He’s changing into something better, stronger.”

He certainly seemed to be affected, but Stiles didn’t know if it was because he was simply giving into his wolf-like nature, or if it was the ritual itself.

Gerard chuffed and ate the rest of the heart in two large bites, then raised a bloody, clawed hand to point at Stiles. “When I finish with these,” he said, voice spit-thick and almost unintelligible, “I think I’ll take your heart, next. I never could tolerate a liar.”

For the first time, Kate didn’t look to be entirely onboard with her father’s plan, her face betraying her feelings, but before she could protest there was a cacophony of howls in the distance. It wasn’t a summoning, it was a challenge. Stiles thought he recognized his father’s voice among them, maybe even Derek, but he couldn’t be sure among so many other howls.

_They were coming._

Gerard lifted his blood-soaked mouth and roared in answer, the sound reverberating through the clearing with a physical kind of force that made Stiles step back until he was beside Boyd’s prone body near the edge of the circle. Chris stood opposite him, with Kate close to her father’s side, no longer looking completely confident in their scheme.

“Gerard,” she said, “if they have a spark they’ll be able to breach the circle. They outnumber us, let me have the boy and we still might be able to negotiate.”

But Gerard was beyond reason, his muzzle protruding more than it had before, his shoulders more thickly muscled as they bulged under his dress shirt. Even his clawed feet burst from his shoes until he became a kind of hybrid wolf-man. He was becoming a true fairy tale monster, utterly inhuman and unable to reason, hulking and savage. Kate took a step back, her eyes wide as her father’s shirt ripped and tore, falling to his feet and onto the dead beta beneath him in tatters, soaking up the blood like a funeral shroud.

Stiles knelt beside Boyd and pressed his hand to the beta’s throat, trying to awaken him with the adrenaline he felt at seeing the incredibly terrifying beast pounce on and tear into another body, as he used his fanged mouth to crack the ribs and bones to get to the organ beneath.

“Wake up, buddy,” Stiles pleaded, watching as Chris tried to break the barrier with no success. “Wake the hell up, Boyd.”

Boyd stirred, but Gerard was already finished with the poor bastard he’d been working on and only had eyes for Stiles’ classmate.

“Time’s up,” Stiles murmured and let his wolf tear free.

The scent of blood was overpowering in his primal form and he sneezed at the thick assault on his senses. Gerard paused in his advance and seemed to look him over with an assessing air, but Stiles was done playing the helpless omega. He bared his teeth and growled, low and deep, feeling it rumble through him like an earthquake as he lowered his head to glare at the beast before him.

He could hear the reinforcements arrive, their feet and paws thundering across the solid packed earth. Some were shouting orders and questions, but none of that mattered as Stiles and the beast glared at each other with single-minded interest. If he’d been in his human form, Stiles might have tried to negotiate one last time, but he wasn’t and it was too late for Gerard to put forth a convincing argument.

It was the beta that charged, and Stiles dodged his grasping arms easily, leaping to the side and immediately upon landing taking off again, Gerard a half-beat behind him with gleaming claws and a frustrated roar. In the background he heard Chris yelling for a spark to break the circle, but that was so far outside his current concerns that it washed over him like noise, along with whatever was happening beyond his frantic dashing and growling as he avoided the potentially fatal blows from the mutated beta.

But _of course_ he’d forgotten about Kate.

Stiles moved to dodge another crushing blow when his hind legs unexpectedly went out from underneath him and he collapsed with a breathless huff. Gerard was only a half-beat behind, teeth moving to descend on Stiles’ throat, he heard his name screamed in the distance, and then a solid dark blur slammed into the beast before his fangs could make contact. Stiles scrambled onto his feet, snapping at where the woman’s hand still held onto one of his paws, the acrid taste of blood flooded his tongue as he joined Boyd in tearing into Gerard’s grotesque form. He tasted even worse as he bucked and howled, tossing Stiles and Boyd away, but they rebounded quickly and tore into him as savagely as their animal natures wanted.

Two against one were much better odds, but Gerard was like no creature Stiles had ever seen before and he fought with an unnatural kind of strength and tenacity. Stiles could feel his legs tremble from the frantic exertion and knew that if Chris didn’t break the circle or join them in fighting off his father then he and Boyd would likely be gutted before they could manage to do the same to Gerard.

At least Kate stayed out of the way after that, well, Stiles assumed she did because there were no more meddlesome touches as he panted and bit, growled and dodged. Gerard was finally starting to slow as blood flowed from a dozen bites and scratches across his bare torso, the wounds healing slowly for an alpha, but much too quickly for a beta. Not for the first time, Stiles considered that his version of the fairy tale just might have actually been the truth.

“Submit,” the beast said, the word almost unintelligible through the elongated jaw and too-long teeth.

Stiles snorted and shook his head.

_Not a chance._

Beside him Boyd roared a challenge and Gerard echoed it with a force that made Stiles’ ears ring. As the monster leapt to attack he threw his weight into the thing’s hind legs, closing his jaw around Gerard’s delicate ankle with a crushing force. The bone crunched between his teeth and he moved his head as they landed awkwardly, completely severing the foot from its leg as he twisted his body away.

Stiles spat it out and tensed to fight, but Gerard was howling, high pitched and pained as he tried to reach the disconnected body part with his clumsy clawed hands. In that instant he looked strangely sad and broken.

“Finish him,” Kate, of all people, said. She was cradling her bloodied hand and had a fevered kind of look in her mad yellow eyes. “Finish him and eat his heart before they break the circle. Do it and you’ll be the most powerful wolf to ever live.”

_And that really wasn’t even a little bit tempting._

But before he could deliver a killing blow, something tore through his hindquarters with such force it just felt like a hard tug, at first. A hard tug and then he was in the dirt, his head spinning as warmth spread beneath him. It took a few beats, but then he could feel his heart beating his blood through the wound in a dull roar that gathered strength until he was nearly blinded by the pain of it. He howled in anguish and the answering roar seemed to shatter some of the stillness in the air and Gerard’s massive body was airborne, flying over Stiles’ prone form and striking the dirt with a force he could feel through the suddenly wet ground. He tried to get to his feet, but the earth shifted alarmingly and he could only let out a pained whine as the sounds of savagery continued outside his periphery.

There was someone by him an instant later and Stiles knew he must have been hallucinating because it was his dad. And Talia? That was even worse. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing, on calming breaths and thoughts, but his leg _hurt_ so much so it was almost impossible to think about anything else.

“Stiles,” his father’s voice said, “Stiles you have to shift back. You know this. Shift so you can heal, son. Please, Stiles.”

It was the please that made him force himself to concentrate on drawing the wolf back inside, to tamper down the instincts and senses. He let out a human-sounding gasp as the pain took on a different kind of feeling, sharper and more focused across the top and outside of his right thigh. His eyes opened and he found himself staring up at exactly who he’d thought he’d seen before. But that still didn’t make sense.

“How?” he tried to ask, but the question was stolen by a pained noise that erupted from him involuntarily. He wasn’t healing, he realized as a fresh wash of blood pulsed from his wound, even with Talia’s strong hands covering the cut he could tell it wasn’t really keeping him from bleeding out.

She called out for Derek, her voice unexpectedly frantic as tears filled her eyes. And that wasn’t comforting at all. The thought coursed through him, looping and distorted as he closed his eyes against the blinding brightness of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one hurt.


	27. Chapter 27

The scent of pack was thick around him as warm hands and hot breath caressed his aching skin. He had a brief, exquisite moment of clarity as he blinked and found himself staring into the unreal kaleidoscope of colors that made up Derek’s eyes.

“Wha’ happen’d?” Stiles whispered, licking his suddenly wet lips and tasting blood.

_That was weird, wasn’t it?_

Derek’s soft eyebrows crinkled until they almost met in the middle of his forehead, but Stiles was too worn out to caress them back into place. He was _so tired_.

“Stiles,” the alpha said, voice trembling as strong arms held him steady, and he realized he was being carried, that Derek was carrying him. “Stiles, please,” he whispered.

“Wha’?” he asked, but the warmth was settling into his chest and his eyes were heavy and he was _so comfortable_ in Derek’s arms.

The movement stopped and he groaned as a throb of pain shivered up from his thigh. He tried to look down, but the alpha was in the way, looking frantic and unkempt.

“Stiles, you can’t fall asleep, I need you to stay awake. Stiles!”

He could feel the panic coming from Derek and everything within him wanted that overpowering ozone scent to stop. Stiles focused his energy on twitching his fingers until they touched Derek’s bare skin, streaked with hopefully-not-Stiles’ blood.

“S’ok,” he said with as much of a smile as he could pull off, sending a mini burst of contentment through his fingertips into the alpha’s ridiculous chest.

“You will be,” Derek promised thickly, “You’ll be okay, but you’re not healing and I think Gerard had some kind of poison on his claws or something because you’re getting sicker and I don’t know what else to do.”

“P’srve?” Stiles asked, a weird static began to buzz through him and his hand fell limp against his stomach.

Derek curled his body around Stiles, setting him across his lap and running a hand over the omega’s short hair. “Are you asking if we’re in the preserve? Yes, yes that’s where we are, it’s the shortest way to the hospital, but I don’t know if we’ll make it. Your heart is- Stiles, _please_.”

The sight of Derek crying broke something fragile in Stiles’ chest, the last piece of whatever it was that had prevented him from truly embracing the alpha as his own, as his mate.

“Mate,” Stiles whispered around the blood in his mouth.

Derek closed his eyes and leaned so their foreheads were touching and his hot tears pattered onto Stiles’ cheeks.

“Yes, yes I want you as my mate, Stiles. You are my mate.”

He sounded so _broken_.

“D’it,” Stiles cleared his throat and had to cough against the choked feeling of wet sticking to the back of his throat. “Do. It,” he said as clearly as he could. “Wan’it.”

Derek slid his stubbled cheek against Stiles’ and he closed his eyes against the blissful sensation, even better than he remembered. The alpha’s lips trailed over his skin until they rested against the junction of his shoulder and neck.

“You are my mate,” Derek whispered hoarsely.

“Mate,” Stiles replied as he felt the needle sharp fangs pierce his skin and sink into him.

Derek held him with his arms and teeth for a long moment and Stiles thought he could feel the alpha’s emotions soak into him through the bite, like what he conveyed during a _peacemaking_ , but denser, somehow, more potent. Even before Derek was finished lathing the wound with his tongue, Stiles felt something in his chest, something physical, shift and settle while his leg gave a final throb before the pain there, too, faded into the background. He could feel the itchy sensation of his wounds healing even before Derek pulled back, his eyes glinting with unshed tears.

Stiles looked softly up at him and then at his neck. “May I?” he asked and grinned when Derek barked a laugh, the tears falling down his smiling cheeks.

“As you wish,” the alpha said, and bent to offer Stiles the proper spot of skin to mark.

He licked a stripe across the flesh, reveling in the familiar taste of Derek on his tongue and the shudder the action produced. “You are my mate and I am yours,” he whispered against the warm skin before he bit down as hard as he could, worrying his teeth until the taste of blood filled his mouth. It was so different from Kate or Gerard; the taste was thick and good, a solid kind of flavor that reminded him of dining with the Hales before his heat, of star covered skies and watching blinking fireflies float through the cool air as torches flared around them. It was delicious without being overpowering, it was right and as his teeth found muscle he sank into the sensation of peace and love he felt for the alpha, for _his_ alpha. The skin was already healing as he lapped gently at the hurt, silently thanking his mate for helping him, for forgiving him for the stupid things he’d done. Though there would no doubt be a lengthy discussion about it in the near future, Stiles knew, but in that moment they were together and they were safe.

_Mates._

“Don’t think this means I forgive you for locking me in the heat room,” Derek said against Stiles’ temple, but he could feel the smile on the alphas lips, so he knew it wasn’t a completely lost cause.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, rubbing his cheek against his mate’s chest below where the bite had formed a raised white circle against the tanned skin.

_Stiles’ mark._

Derek snorted and hugged him closer, comforting and careful. “I thought I’d lost you, several times in the past few days, and it broke my heart every single time.”

Stiles could hear it beating beneath his ear and he kissed the alpha’s skin there before he turned his face to look up at the wounded look in his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I’m sorry for being so stupidly impulsive, but I’m not sorry that my impulsivity ended up with us here. I’ll never apologize for that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Derek responded with a smirk.

Stiles reached up and grabbed the back of his mate’s neck and pulled until their faces were close enough to touch. “I won’t ever apologize for this, either,” he said as his lips found Derek’s.

Talia, his dad, Eudora, and Melissa found them there a while and many breathless kisses later. By that time Stiles was able to sit up without feeling dizzy or sick and his leg was even useable, but Derek insisted on carrying him, anyway. Which, hey, Stiles wasn’t about to complain. He was exhausted and starving and if someone else wanted to do all the work for him he was more than willing to go with that. Plus, Derek had looked kind of frantic when Stiles had mentioned that he thought he could walk on his own, so he’d quickly agreed after that.

 

They went to the hospital despite Stiles’ halfhearted protests. He was overruled by everyone, which was not at all surprising, really. It was interesting how Melissa and his dad seemed to effortlessly integrate with the three Hales, like their packs were meant to be joined and everyone had just been waiting for Stiles and Derek to get their act together. Or that could have just been Stiles’ exhausted observation. Either way, they got along quite well as Stiles was admitted and poked and prodded by medical professions, with Derek constantly hovering at his side.

Whatever test results that came back were discussed outside of Stiles’ hearing, probably for the best since he was too focused on sleeping and eating as much as he could take. But when his dad and Talia came to visit after that particular talk with the doctors they stopped together at the door to watch how he was sprawled over Derek, who had actually fallen asleep for once.

Every time Stiles had woken up until that point, the alpha had been vigilant, tense and alert where he sat on the bed beside him, tracking everything that was happening around them. It was nice to see him relaxed, his brow unfurrowed and his strong limbs pliant underneath Stiles. Not that it lasted long. As soon as Talia moved to step across the threshold Derek’s eyes snapped open and he was instantly awake.

“Mother,” he said with a gruffness born of sleep, “Sheriff.”

“Derek,” “Son,” they replied, then together, “Stiles.”

    Stiles knew that tone of voice. It meant trouble, maybe not for him, but definitely for someone. It wasn't exactly his dad's _talking to a victim_ voice, but it was certainly close enough to put him on edge.

Beneath him Derek adjusted the bed so he could sit up, arranging them so Stiles was stretched between his legs, the alpha's arms wrapped around his chest as his head rested against a firm shoulder.

"So," Stiles drew out when no one immediately spoke up, "questions? I'm assuming."

His dad ran a hand across his face with a tired sigh, "Yeah, son, we've got a few questions for you."

_That should be fun._

Derek hummed beneath him and ran a hand over the attractive looking hospital gown Stiles had been given upon his arrival, and across his stomach in a comforting gesture. He was actually pretty stoked to be wearing anything at all, even if it was basically a sheet covered in pale blue and pink flowers. But at the very least it covered all of his essential parts.

"Right, so,” he said, diving into the story in hopes that he could forestall any unnecessary weirdness, “the Hales saved me, I had my heat in one of their rooms, I tricked them and ran away, I was found and kidnapped by the hunters, I helped the omegas escape and I think you can figure out the rest pretty easily. I mean, you all were there for that last bit, right?"

The sheriff was not amused.

"Stiles," he said in his _I'm tired of your shit_ tone, but then Talia spoke up.

"Who was it that tortured you, Stiles?" she asked and Derek tensed under him like he was the one who had been jolted with electricity. “Your tests showed an increase in several chemicals that are indicative of you having suffered repeated physical trauma. We need to know what happened and who did it to you.”

_Just perfect._

"Okay, so we're just jumping into this, then?”

"You were tortured?" Derek asked, hands suddenly roaming across Stiles' perfectly fine and incredibly responsive body. The alpha was exuding worry and fear and that was very much not okay.

He wiggled a bit and finally managed to trap Derek's wrists in his hands, "Yes, okay, I’m fine now, but it was Kate and Gerard Argent."

And that was definitely a growl, coming from both Derek and Talia while his dad watched the scene with a professional kind of calm, except for the unmistakable anger in his eyes.

“We’re going to need details, and an official statement,” he said, tone brokering no argument.

Not that Stiles would have argued, anyway, he wanted to see those crazy jerks rot away in prison for the rest of their lives. Though having the judge of Beacon Hills on trial would certainly be cause for some drama, or even outright protests if the situation wasn't handled properly. He didn’t think the public would be too torn up about Kate’s imprisonment, though, she’d never really stayed around or held a job for long. She wasn't a pillar of the community.

_Unless._

“Wait, are they even alive? Is this going to trial? What happened after I passed out in the clearing, did Gerard change back?”

He very consciously did not think about the fate of the betas who had helped in the strange transformation.

"Gerard's dead," Derek said with a dark kind of gruffness.

Stiles twisted to look back at him and was struck by the dangerous gleam in his mate's eyes. It was pretty clear the alpha had played a significant role in Gerard's demise. Not that Stiles was actually concerned about that other than any of the possible ramifications that could befall his mate because of it.

"Okay," he said, releasing Derek's wrists and petting his tense arms where they were wrapped around him. "That's good, right? He was pretty unhinged and a way spooky dynamist asshole. Not that anyone should take justice into their own hands," he continued at the look his father was giving him, "But lets just say I'm not crying over this guy."

"He hurt you," Derek said, like it was the only explanation needed for homicide.

Which, knowing alphas and their overpowering drive to protect their pack, was not too far from the truth. Though, if the situation had been reversed, if Derek or another member of Stiles’ pack had been in danger, he’d probably have had a hard time restraining himself as well.

“He did,” Stiles said, turning to look at his dad and Talia. “So did Kate. They were trying to have the omegas form pre-bonds with the people who purchased them through some auction. I’m pretty sure it was mostly online since they took a bunch of pictures of us and we never really saw anyone except the hunters while they kept us in the warehouse.”

The sheriff nodded, “We found a camera card in the field, I suppose we have you to thank for it?”

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, I hope you washed it off, though.” He made a face at the memory of horking it up and felt Derek shift behind him uneasily at his remembered discomfort. “Anyway, yeah, they hosed us off, creepy pictures, some kind of pee test to check us for existing pre-bonds, then back into the cages.”

His dad had the kind of look he got when he was working through a complex case, connecting the dots and formulating a theory about how the pieces fit together. It suddenly occurred to Stiles that no one in the room knew about his pre-bond with Derek, perhaps not even the alpha, himself. And that fact made the rest of the story a bit harder to spin without revealing the nature of their relationship before the mating bite.

_Crap._

“You said _they_ were auctioned,” his dad said slowly, definitely becoming suspicious.

“Well, I did kind of roll in later than everyone else,” it was true, “and by then I don’t know how things were working out, so Kate decided she wanted me instead of doing the auction. She said I was cute.”

Derek clearly picked up on some of the subtext, his grip was suddenly tighter around Stiles’ middle, but he kept his breathing even and neither of the others seemed to notice anything was wrong.

“Kate Argent?” the sheriff asked, jotting down something into the notebook he always carried in his breast pocket. There was a worn picture of Stiles’ mom taped inside, and when he filled up one book he always took it out and put it in the next.

“Yep.”

He got a look. That one was easy enough to decipher, it was the _sheriff_ look. The _speak in full sentences so I can write this down and get this over with_ look.

He knew the drill and was only too happy to oblige. “Yes, Kate Argent told me she intended to form a pre-bond with me. There was a lot of scenting going on. I noticed that each of the omegas was given clothing that carried the essence of the person who bought or chose them. I was no different.”

The _sheriff_ look was back and had gained some narrowed eyes. Those were never good.

“But you didn’t have a problem attacking her when you were a wolf,” his dad said slowly.

_Double crap._

It was widely known that pre-bonding prevented the people who were attached from directly injuring each other, which Stiles had definitely done to Kate.

He gambled and gave a shrug, "Guess it didn't work. Besides, she electrocuted me a bunch of times, before and after she scented me, so I'm not sure how a pre-bond could have formed, anyway."

Huh, he hasn't actually considered that before, but it certainly made all kinds of sense. Or none at all. If Kate had really wanted to stake her claim on him, the last thing she should have done was harm him. So what had been her real plan?

"She _electrocuted_ you?" Derek asked, incredulous and angry. It was directed at Kate, but the sensation still crawled under his skin with an uncomfortable kind of intensity, a part of their bond.

"And Gerard?" His dad prompted, glaring at the notebook as he wrote with perhaps more force than was needed. Talia watched the entire thing with a kind of quiet calm that did nothing to betray her true feelings, though he couldn't imagine her being okay with any of it.

Stiles ruffled and smoothed the soft hair on Derek's arms, "I stayed behind when the other omegas ran, I grabbed the camera-"

"And took some extra pictures," his dad said with the that was really stupid look.

"And took some more picture. I swallowed the sd card after that and was trying to get out of there when Gerard found me, beat me, and took me to the field."

Derek buried his dead against the junction of Stiles' neck where the mating mark was a low noise in the back of his throat.

"Why?" His dad asked.

Talia spoke up, finally. "I believe I know the answer to that question, if you'd allow me to hazard a guess?"

Stiles nodded in thanks and settled back against his mate, reveling in the warmth of his embrace and focusing on keeping them both calm and centered. Overall, Derek was handling things remarkably well for a newly bonded alpha who’d just found out his mate had been tortured by crazy dynamists.

"There is a very old story, a fairy tale, that I believe can explain Gerard's madness."

The sheriff folded his arms and gestured for her to continue.

“I’ll tell it properly, so have some patience. Once upon a time, when wishes still worked and the world was balanced, there lived a lonely beta who watched the villagers around him and dreamed. His parents had both been strong alphas, as were his siblings, but after the beta grown up they’d cast him out to live his own life. All he wanted was to fit in with his family, to have the same kind of power as they did and to be respected.

“One night he had a dream, the product of some cast-off spell by a demon or vengeful fairy, no one knows. In that dream he learned the secret of how to change his fate and his classification. But if there is something we know about magic, it is that there is always a terrible price to pay.

“The beta gathered his supplies and the next night, the night of a full moon, he drew a circle around his family’s house using a burned branch from an ash tree and a scattering of powdered wolfsbane. He attacked the people who loved him, one by one, tearing out their hearts and throats and devouring them. All six of them fell to his claws and teeth, even the children, but when he was done all he had to show for his heinous actions were his bloodied skin and an emptiness in his soul.

“Whatever creature had shared the spell had lied to the beta, and in his grief he called out to the heavens for forgiveness. The gods frown down at the massacre and turned the offender into living stone, so he would always have to think about the terrible crimes he’d committed and the dangers of reaching too far.”

_Holy hell._ That was a lot more detail than what Stiles had remembered, but the jist was the same. It still didn’t explain Gerard’s hulk-out, though.

The sheriff whistled low and shook his head, “Talia, that is quite a story, but I know what I saw in that field and whatever Gerard was doing _worked_. I’ve never seen anything like that, before. And that still doesn’t answer my question. Why was Stiles dragged into that whole mess in the first place? Why did Gerard want you there?"

Stiles gave his dad an apologetic look, "I may have told him what I thought was a fake version of the story, but I guess it wasn't so fake after all. I just wanted to lure him somewhere I knew you'd find me, but then he believed me, that it was betas instead of alphas that the guy from the story attacked, and then he just started tearing into those other hunters. They were stunned and defenseless and the more hearts he ate the bigger and stronger he got."

Remembered panic was starting to flood him, along with the same feeling of hopelessness he'd had at the time, watching him devour Erica's heart without a shred of remorse or rationality. Derek's broad hand moved up his chest to his neck and cheek. He pressed gently until Stiles turned his head and could nuzzle his face against his mate's chest, and the panic vanished.

 “Stiles, is there something you’re not telling me?”

He grunted and twisted his body so he could more comfortably cuddle with his mate, “Yeah, dad, probably, but I really just want to pass out for a while if that’s okay.” He looked over his shoulder and caught the eyeroll his father gave him and couldn’t help but grin at how much it reminded him of the Hales. His dad would definitely fit right in with them.

“Fine, we’re done for now, but I expect to hear the rest later. You, too, Derek, I want to know how you fit into this not-quite-accurate version of the truth.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek said like a suck-up.

_Not cool._

But neither was his chest. It was very not cool, it was practically hot, really. Stiles smiled sleepily as the bed reclined and he wriggled up Derek’s body until he could reach the alpha’s face. The position was similar to their first kiss, but was so much better because there was no longer any deception between them.

“There’s something you haven’t told me, either,” Derek whispered as he stared up at Stiles.

_Damnit._

So maybe there was still a little deception, but it was to protect his mate, so it had to be worth it.

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mates!


	28. Chapter 28

His favorite thing about being in the hospital, besides actually getting to eat and being able to fall asleep wrapped around his mate, was when they were finally told it was okay for Stiles to shower. Up until that point he'd been sniffed and swabbed by both medical and police staff so they could run more tests and fill out their reports to the best of their ability given the physical evidence, but finally, after more than a day of suffering through the weird warehouse stink Stiles had going on, they gave the go-ahead for him to clean himself off.

It had started innocently enough, of course, with Derek merely going into the bathroom with him to make sure he didn’t slip in the tub or pass out or something, but as Stiles untied the delicate laces holding his gown and let it slide down his body onto the tile floor, Derek’s eyes flashed red with interest.

Of course he then cleared his throat and tried to play it off like he hadn’t just shown his hand, but Stiles grinned and slid his hands under his mate’s shirt, tugging it off and caressing the silky skin underneath. His pants and briefs followed and after allowing himself to revel in the exquisite feeling of skin to skin contact, Stiles slowly drew them closer to the tub and turned on the water.

"I just realized I don't know how you like the temperature," Stiles said as he adjusted it until it no longer felt like that stupid icy creek.

Derek, who was draped over his back like an amazingly attentive blanket, slid his hand up Stiles' chest to his throat in a gentle caress. "It doesn't matter, as long as I'm with you."

Stiles snorted, "Dude, that was both incredibly hot and amazingly cheesy. I don't know how you even pulled that one off, but I'm game if you are. Water's good, let's go."

He allowed Derek to help him over the edge of the tub, even though he didn't really need the assistance, and as soon as the alpha joined him under the warm spray his hands were all over his mate, roaming the slick flesh and exploring the places he'd never had the chance to touch. Derek groaned and leaned his head back against the tiled wall.

"Stiles, we can't do this."

His mouth had joined the party at some point and he pulled back just enough to snort, "I certainly don't see why not. I'm here, you're here, we're both awake and clearly willing."

Derek blushed and his eyes flashed again, sending a shiver of interest straight to Stiles' cock. "I mean we can't do this _here_ , in a building full of other people, many of them alphas, who will definitely hear us and know exactly what we're doing."

"So let them hear." He really didn't see what the problem was. So someone overheard them, so what? That was probably a part of being an alpha, anyway, overhearing things you'd rather not. Smelling _everything_ , being sensitive to light and all that jazz. Enhanced senses probably really sucked, sometimes.

"Stiles," Derek gasped as his hand slid lower and curled around the alpha's hardening cock. He could definitely get used to hearing his name spoken with such breathy surprise. He wondered what other noises he could pull from his mate.

Stiles grinned and hummed in answer, nipping and licking his Derek's taut neck. "Still want a sexy times rain check?" He asked, then focused on the mark he'd left while both his hands were occupied caressing every bit of skin he could reach.

That earned him a muttered curse and suddenly he was the one pressed against the cold tile, his front covered in feverishly hot alpha, large hands roaming his body and pulling breathless moans from him like the best kind of music.

"You drive me crazy," Derek said, his precious reservations obviously gone as he pressed flush against Stiles, hands cradling his head as they bucked against each other with a mindless kind of arousal. "I want to bend you over and take you, to make you scream my name as I hold onto you with my teeth."

That was all it took, Derek's silky skin and voice, the contact and promises and then Stiles grunted out a breath and his seed erupted between them, helped by Derek's tight fist and it was all he could do to hold onto the alpha's hard shoulders to keep himself from collapsing bonelessly onto the floor of the tub. He blinked back the stars swimming across his eyes and watched as Derek finished himself as well, quickly and with an economical air. Stiles just managed to wrap his hand around his mate's fist before he, too, painted them with his essence.

"That was, yeah," Stiles said, pressing a smiled kiss to Derek's warm cheek. "We should do that again. Many many times."

"Immediately? Because I think I might need a bit of a break, at least give me a minute to recover," Derek said, but Stiles could feel him smiling.

In lieu of replying, Stiles hand slipped across the wet marks on Derek's abdomen, a bit sad that the water was already washing away the evidence of their first sexual encounter. But before he could attempt to coax his mate back to hardness there was a rapid pounding on the bathroom door.

"Stiles? Derek? You two better not be doing what I think you're doing in there."

_Uh oh._

Being called out by the sheriff was never a good thing, especially not when he was actually doing something objectionable. Well, objectionable in the eyes of the sheriff and probably everyone who had overheard their mutual masturbation.

“Sorry dad, we are indeed showering. I know that’s disappointing to you, and that you wanted me to smell like warehouse funk for the rest of my life but I really couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Very funny, Stiles. Now hurry up, I have some questions for Derek.”

And that was even _worse_.

Stiles turned to face his mate and was struck by how totally calm he looked. “Dude, my dad’s going to interrogate you,” he whispered, quickly slathering the bland soap across both their chests to cover at least some of the pungent scent of their release. “Aren’t you even a tiny bit worried?”

Derek’s eyebrows joined the conversation, looking confused. “What do I have to worry about? You’re my mate, which makes him pack as well. Pack doesn’t fear pack, Stiles.”

_Right._

So things were definitely different for alphas, it seemed, not that Stiles had ever feared anyone in his own pack, memories of Scott's asshole dad aside, but Derek’s blase nature certainly shed more light on the Hale way of handling things. Also, he probably hadn’t had a one-on-one conversation with the sheriff before.

“Just don’t do anything to piss him off,” Stiles warned. While his dad wasn’t ever physically violent, he had the means to make pretty much anyone's life very very uncomfortable.

Derek snorted and finished rinsing the soap off of his chest. “He’s a beta Stiles, I’m an alpha, it’ll be fine.”

_Not with that attitude._

Derek was so unbelievably screwed and he didn’t even know it.

Stiles sighed, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” There really was nothing else to say, not without launching into his diatribe about common dynamist preconceptions and stereotyping and how such ways of thinking were a good way to get shot by the local law enforcement. He could go on for days about that, but some things just needed to be learned the hard way, he knew.

His mate gave him a light parting kiss. “Enjoy the rest of your shower, Stiles,” he said, and stepped out of the shower. Derek toweled off with deliberate movements before he slipped on his jeans, commando, and dragged the shirt back over his head. His soft smile smoothed out into a neutral expression as he opened the door and left Stiles with his thoughts.

_Nothing good will come of that conversation_ , was his first, followed quickly by _holy shit I just got off with Derek Hale_.

If he had a little celebratory happy dance after that, well, no one was there to see it.

 

When he finally finished lathering and rinsing away the evidence of his captivity, Stiles felt like a new person. He toweled himself dry and debated for a half second before slipping into Derek’s boxer briefs and pulling on a new hospital gown. The bed sheets had been changed, which was sad because then it no longer smelled like Derek, but it also meant the place no longer smelled like dirt and pain, so that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

He walked around the room for a bit to stretch his legs, admiring the cards sent to him from some kids at school and people in the community who either had known his mother, were friends with his father, or who just wanted to try to get in the sheriff's good graces by being nice to his kid. Regardless, Stiles appreciated the gesture. His favorite was a pink and glittery affair from Ava, featuring a pair of stick figure princesses, one of them Stiles, and a lurking red-eyed guy with a dark smear across the bottom of his face, and who could only have been Derek.

He smiled and ran a thumb over the delightful artistic rendering of the alpha and was so focused on thinking of all the fun things he wanted to do with his mate when they got out of there that he nearly missed the soft sound of the door opening. There was movement out of the corner of his eye and when he looked he almost dropped the card.

"Peter? What are you doing here?" He hadn't seen any of the other Hales, save Talia, since his arrival, and even though he was considered part of the family, having the unmated, uncollared alpha come into his room unchaperoned was highly unusual.

_Right?_

He shut the door silently behind him and spread his hands, "I just came to congratulate you on your mating." There was a strange kind of subtext there Stiles couldn't quite grasp, but was distracted from delving into further when Peter lifted his head and sniffed.

"Dude. Not cool," Stiles said. Alphas were super weird, sometimes, and clearly Peter was no exception to that rule. "Well, it's been real, thanks for stopping by and offering your congrats, but I'm going to hit the hay. Wow, we have definitely had a conversation very similar this, before, but if you try that intimidation creeper act this time I'm definitely going to knee you in the balls and call for my mate. Just so we're on the same page, here."

Peter smiled and laughed, like Stiles' threat had been a joke, but he didn't move any closer and Stiles sidestepped to put the bed between them, just in case.

"Stiles, I can see and smell that you and my nephew are mated, though it doesn't seem that he's laid his official claim on you as of yet. Understandable, I suppose, since you've been here since the bite occurred. I imagine you'd want some privacy for that final part of the bonding."

And of course an alpha would think penetrative sex was the pinnacle of claiming, like it was required for an official mating to occur. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Peter was just being nice and making small talk.

_Probably._

"Okay, well, this has been weird. Good talk, door's that way," he said and pointed it out, as if the alpha had lost track upon entering through it a minute ago.

"Now, now, Stiles," Peter said with a smirk. And that was never a good thing. "I thought we could talk while my nephew was occupied defending his actions to your father."

_And what?_

"Uh, Derek saved my life, there's really not much to defend. I'm pretty sure my dad's one hundred percent behind the Stiles saving."

Peter shook his head with a wry laugh, "Oh, not that, Stiles, I mean the pre-bond he formed with you before your ill-advised departure from our home. I take it from your speechlessness that you were under the impression no one else knew about the connection between the two of you? Come now, we all knew it was going to happen, I certainly did the moment I heard your pleas during your heat."

_Son of a-_

"That is not cool, dude. Why the hell were you listening to me then, anyway? How did you even hear me, those rooms are soundproofed?"

He shrugged, "I accompanied my brother Oscar down to the hallway outside your room once when he went to tend to you. I heard you call my nephew's name through the open door. Of course then we left the two of you together after I challenged him and I'm honestly suprised he didn't attempt to lay a claiming bite on you then. It certainly would have made things much neater for us, don't you think? You wouldn't have run off, we wouldn't have had to spend days tracking you down and coming to your rescue. We certainly wouldn't be here, but the two of you formed a pre-bond, instead. Not that any of that matters now, of course, since you've happily marked him and he's marked you."

"There's an _unless_ in that somewhere, isn't there?" Along with a whole lot more scheming than Stiles was comfortable with. He wondered if it had just been Peter's plan to get him and Derek to mate sooner, rather than later, or if any of the other Hales had been onboard with the idea as well. Andrew, maybe? He didn’t believe Talia to be that devious.

Peter lifted his hands, palms up, in an empty gesture of peace. " _Unless_ you can think of a reason to reject my nephew's _almost_ completed bond. Some reason why he was unworthy to keep and protect you. Some specific, _living_ reason why you'd perhaps think twice about accepting his offer."

_Kate._

Stiles swallowed and shook his head. "Get the hell out of my room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote the shower scene on the bus, just in case you were wondering how much of a badass I am (or how much of a creeper).


	29. Chapter 29

    

He tried to take a nap, but Peter’s words made him feel restless and irritable. Clearly Kate was still alive, or someone would have mentioned her death when they’d told him about Gerard's. Plus, Peter hadn't exactly been subtle in his offer slash warning, but why he was using her as a way to try to sway Stiles away from Derek was the question. He knew Derek had pre-bonded with her those years ago, but the connection had obviously been severed or he and Derek couldn’t have been able to form their own pre-bond and Kate wouldn’t have tried to usurp that bond with one of her own.

Had _Peter_ pre-bonded with her when they’d had their affair? But if that was the case then why was he all over Stiles? Was he just trying to take him away from Derek because he was being petty and competitive, or was he trying to teach one or both of them a lesson? Not that it really mattered either way because as far as Stiles was concerned he was definitely bonded to the alpha and nothing short of death could change that, regardless of Peter's dynamist opinion of the matter. The bite sealed them as mates, end of story. Not that Stiles was opposed to the other part of the claiming, the physical part. He was very much un-opposed, really. He wanted to claim and be claimed many times, and was looking forward to a time when he and Derek would have the privacy to do so.

But he was not quite ready for the kind of a brain scramble that came from his brief and confusing conversation with Peter. What he knew for sure was that Kate had lured Derek into a pre-bond so she could get to Peter, who she then had some kind of physical relationship with. She used the knowledge she’d gathered from him to nearly burn him to death and in the process destroyed what remained of the old archives and the rest of the Beacon Hills library. Whatever Peter felt for her then or currently was a mystery, though Stiles couldn’t imagine he’d be too thrilled with her continued survival after what she’d put him through. A year in the hospital to recover? That had to have been an excruciating experience, even with other alphas to help take the pain.

Stiles settled back onto the bed and smoothed his hand over the slightly rough texture of the blanket. It was nowhere near as nice as the rabbit fur, but it still worked to help him calm his racing thoughts like Deaton had taught him. Peter was playing some kind of a game, or was attempting to trick him. To test Stiles’ loyalty? To see if he would turn away from Derek? Did he _want_ Stiles to abandon his new mate? If that were the case he'd be extremely disappointed in the actual outcome.

That time when the door opened it was Melissa, and she came with a tray of the same kind of bland hospital food he’d been encouraged to eat every few hours since his arrival. “Brought you more,” she said as she set it on the rolling tray table beside his bed. "Hey, was there someone in here a minute ago?” She had a keen sense of smell for a beta, something she’d often used to her advantage when Stiles and Scott had done something particularly stupid. They’d learned to shower before coming home if that were the case, not that it always helped. She said she could smell their dumbassery, and Stiles had yet to find evidence to the contrary.

“Uh, yeah, Peter stopped by to congratulate me on my bonding with his nephew,” and to give him weirdly cryptic warnings or _something_.

Melissa got a strange look on her face, a kind of half-smile he didn’t remember seeing from her before. “Peter Hale? I haven’t seen him in years. Interesting. Hey, I have to do my rounds, but I’ll be back in a little while. Try to finish that before I get back, alright?”

“Sure thing,” he said as she left.

Stiles picked at the food, but he was too full of conflicting thoughts to stomach much. He was about to attempt to nap until Derek came back when the door opened again.

“Thing needs a lock or something,” Stiles muttered, but when he looked up it was the last person he expected to see.

Kate looked _worn_. Her face was haggard, hair stringy and unkempt. She wore a hospital gown like his own, but hers was streaked with dirt and possibly blood just like the skin of her legs and her bare feet. Her brown eyes were feverish as they roamed the room without stopping, and she moved with a kind of jerking gait that spoke of sedation or mental illness or both.

“Kate?” he hazarded, not certain what was going on or how or why she was there.

“Mine,” she muttered. Her hand jerked involuntarily and Stiles noticed the handcuff hanging from it, the other end hanging open like it had been picked.

He swallowed and very slowly slipped off of the other side of the bed, knowing that he was cornered, that there was very little space between them, but at least it gave him room to shift if it came to that. “Kate, what are you doing here?” Stiles said as loudly as he dared, hoping someone, Derek, would be listening.

“Came for what’s mine,” she said, or at least he thought she said. It was difficult to understand her slightly slurred speech and she ambled forward another step. “Can’t take what’s mine. Promised."

“There’s nothing here of yours,” Stiles said, and for some reason he felt as calm as he sounded. Even though there was a crazy kidnapper who had quite possibly suffered a psychotic break in his room, he knew that if it came to a confrontation he’d win. As a wolf he certainly outweighed her, he had the bond with Derek working for him, regardless of Peter’s opinion on the matter, and they were literally surrounded by people who would rush to his aid if he called out.    

_So why didn’t he?_

“Kate, why did you do all of this? What was the point?”

She finally seemed to see him and she raised her other hand, it was bandaged, but blood was already seeping through again from where he’d savaged her. It was strange that the wound hadn’t healed. “We could have done it. We could have won,” she said with raw conviction.

Stiles shook his head, “You don’t have the authority to decide other people’s fates like that. What you and Gerard tried to do, what you did, was wrong, and that’s why you failed. Beacon Hills will never be a place where one type dominates the others. We may be different, but we are equal under the law and nothing you do is going to change that.”

Kate made to bare her teeth, but before she could shift the door burst open and there was a clawed hand poised at her throat and a hulking mass crowded behind her.

“You’re mine,” Peter said, his eyes red and his teeth sharp. His features shifted until he looked even less human, a vicious growl rumbling in his chest. “You stole my life when you tried to burn me alive, and now I’m going to take yours.”

“Peter, don’t!” Stiles yelled, but it was too late.

Blood sprayed from her neck like a fountain, spurting across the room in a mist of red. Stiles scrambled back until his back struck the wall, but still his skin and gown were already covered. Kate tried to gasp or talk or something, her mouth and jaw worked as she stared at Stiles, wide eyed and fearful and _dying_.

He stepped forward, not knowing what to do but needing to do _something_ when a thunderous roar sounded from down the hall, rapidly getting closer. Peter spun, dropping the dead weight of the no longer struggling Kate, but he was thrown aside as the massive wolf charged into the room.

It was the biggest Stiles had ever seen, covered in black fur tipped red with a solid black face and paws and a single white star on its chest. The way the alpha’s red eyes stared at him, clearly checking him for injuries was instantly familiar.

“Derek?”

The wolf nodded and took a step closer, but growled at Peter when he moved to do the same. Stiles reached out a hand when he was close enough and buried in in the surprisingly soft fur. Whatever discomfort or confusion he’d been feeling vanished as he wrapped his arms around his mate and pressed his face against his warm neck.

“Holy shit, Derek, you’re _enormous_. You seriously weren’t kidding about your type, were you? Hey, I’m not complaining,” he continued when the wolf moved to pull away, “this is ridiculously amazing. This means I won't have to be quite so careful with you when we run together as wolves. Wow, I can’t even, you’re so beautiful like this. Well, you’re definitely pretty either way, but this is an unexpected bonus.”

Derek nuzzled him and gently pulled them away from the blood that had begun to pool and run under the bed from Kate’s lifeless corpse. Peter was still just standing there, his nails no longer claws as he stared at her body. Stiles was struck by how lost he looked, like he didn’t know what to do with himself since he’d accomplished something he’d clearly been wanting to do for a long time.

“Are you okay Peter?” Stiles asked quietly, running his fingers through Derek’s thick coat, aware that his mate had intentionally put himself between the two of them. Like his uncle was in any condition to do anything other than stand there like a statue.

Peter slowly blinked and his gaze followed the blood, then looked over his nephew, and finally Stiles. “I’m fine, Stiles, are you injured?”

He shook his head and then the room was filled with people; his dad, who raced to his side, Melissa, who raced to Peter’s, other nurses and doctors and police until Derek and his father finally managed to squeeze them out the door and down the hall to an empty room.

“Stiles,” the sheriff said, “I’m going to need your statement when you’re feeling up to it. I understand if you’re overwhelmed right now. I can get a nurse in here to give you something if you want, or an omega to help calm you down.”

He was already shaking his head before his dad finished. “No, no that definitely won’t be necessary. I’d like to get this over with and get a shower, though. I feel pretty unbelievably disgusting right now.”

“Of course. Now, what happened?”

Stiles looked down at Derek’s red eyes, which had barely deviated from him the entire time. He took a deep breath, knowing that what he said could determine Peter’s fate. Peter who might have come across as a creeper at times, but his motivations were suddenly perfectly clear to Stiles. All he’d wanted was vengeance. And Stiles couldn’t blame him for that, not when, in one slash of his claws, Peter had killed the remaining mastermind behind his mother’s killing. He breathed out and _believed_.

“Kate was deranged,” he said, fingers digging into Derek’s coat, thankful for his stabilizing presence. “She came into my room and was rambling about something, saying she was there for what was hers, and then she moved closer to me like I was the one she was going to try and take. I was about to shift, I wasn’t sure what she was going to do but then Peter came in. He saved me, Dad.”

There was enough truth to his story that any exaggeration should be overlooked.

_He hoped._

The notebook was out, as well as the _sheriff_ look.

“And why was Peter here in the first place?” he said.

Stiles looked down at Derek, knowing his mate would hear the partial truth of his next statement, “He came to say congratulations on our mating.”

His dad smirked and shook his head. “What do you know. He was friends with your mom, they worked in the library together. But that’s neither here nor there. Okay, that’s it for now. I’ll let them know you’re in this room. Take a shower, _behave_ yourselves,” the last bit was addressed to Derek, who ducked his head in a nod, and then he left muttering about alphas and Hales and Argents.

Stiles sank to the cold tile floor and wrapped Derek’s thick neck in a hug, pressing his cheek against the alpha’s and breathing in his wolfish scent. It smelled like Derek, but thicker and earthier and _right_. And then it was hot flesh against his hands instead of silky fur, and strong arms surrounding him and lifting him, carrying him into the attached bathroom as he kept his face pressed against his mate’s throat.

Derek ran the water and stripped Stiles of his clothes, chuckling under his breath when he saw the boxer briefs. “I like seeing you in my things,” he whispered, sliding his palms down the back of them and tugging until they fell to the floor.

That time, they showered slowly, gently lathering each other’s bodies with delicate touches, caressing and hugging and offering sweet kisses in non verbal declarations of caring and concern. Neither of them said anything, even though both knew Stiles was hiding part of the truth, but it didn’t seem all that important when compared to the obvious fear Derek had felt for his mate.

It was Stiles who finally turned off the water and drew a towel over Derek’s firm body, carefully wiping off every lingering drop. The alpha returned the favor and after they both slipped on the ever attractive hospital gowns, they curled up in bed together with Derek on the side closer to the door. Stiles would have commented about that, but as long as the alpha felt secure like that, so did he.

“When are you going to take me home?” he finally asked, lips brushing the soft hair of his mate’s chest. Their shared pheromones acting like a blanket of contentment settling over them, blurring the outside world and wrapping them in a safe sort of cocoon.

    He could feel Derek twist a bit to look down at him. “To your home or mine?” There was a slight edge to his voice, like was afraid of the answer, but needed to know even though it scared him.

    Stiles smiled against his skin and looked up, “Isn’t that the same place, my mate?”

    Derek’s answering grin made his heart skip a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Should be one more to go.


	30. Chapter 30

“Still don’t quite know why I’m here,” Stiles said, knee bouncing as he looked around the small square room. There were a few motivational posters hanging up, but the place really didn’t have much personality. Not that Ms. Morrell would have had much time to make it more hers, she’d just started as the Beacon Hills High’s guidance counselor the previous week.

“You’re here,” she said in the same kind of tone Dr. Deaton used when Stiles was being intentionally slow, “because you’ve gone through quite a lot over the past month and your father wanted to make sure you knew you had someone to talk to about the experiences. Someone who could empathize with you.”

“So I’m here because you’re an omega?” Not that he had a problem with that, he was actually thrilled that the school had finally managed to overcome the previous town council’s dynamist policies and had begun to hire both alphas and omegas to fill the positions vacated by individuals proven to have been involved with the hunters.

There was that look again, but it had a rye edge Stiles found himself responding to. “Something like that. So, you’re bonded to Derek Hale, how did that happen?”

Stiles ran a hand over his head, it was a different kind of soft from his normal buzz cut. Both Ava and Derek had mentioned that they’d like to see what he’d look like with it grown out, so he was giving it a shot. Thus far it was fine, though at times he looked a bit like a hedgehog.

“Well, the Hales saved me from the hunters, Derek and I spent some quality time together, pre-bonded, and then when I was dying he bit me to save my life. I asked him to do it.”

“That occurred in the preserve, did it not?”

He nodded.

“Your mother was murdered there, wasn’t she?” Ms. Morrell asked it with a kind of professional calm, understanding and yet curious.

Stiles could have been mad about that, could have stormed off and been pissed and caused a fuss, but he just nodded. “Yeah, I watched the betas, the hunters, kill her when I was a kid. I haven’t been back since, not until Derek took me through there on the way to the hospital, but he was afraid I was going to die, so I asked him for the mating bite.”

“It sounds like a kind of rebirth to me,” she said.

He hadn’t really thought of it that way, but it made a certain kind of sense. “I guess so.”

“But that wasn’t all of what happened during Gerard’s attack on you, was it? I read the medical report and the cut on your thigh was superficial, you should have been able to heal, especially since you were pre-bonded to an alpha at the time. So why was that wound different?”

Stiles wasn’t quite sure how to feel about his school counselor digging into his personal medical files, but he’d obsessed about the same thing, and why Kate hadn’t healed when he’d bitten her, so he figured he’d share what he knew. “I talked to Talia about it, and her sister Eudora, she’s a nurse. They thought it had something to do with the ritual that Gerard performed. It changed him, made him stronger and more powerful, but it also corrupted him and anyone who came in contact with his blood. It got into my wound when he scratched me.”

“And in Kate’s when you bit her.”

Clearly Ms. Morrell had done her homework.

He nodded.

“But, as you mentioned, the mating bite cured you.”

Stiles smiled, “Just like in a fairy tale.”

“Indeed, and how is it living with the Hales? Quite different from your previous living arrangement, I assume.”

Stiles smiled and looked down at his hands, then up at her, “Yeah, it’s different all right. There are nineteen of us, twenty, if you count Laura and Mark’s unborn cub. I miss my dad, sometimes, I want him to come live with us, but other than that I honestly can’t complain.”

“Derek’s good to you?”

“Derek’s the best. He’s stubborn and sarcastic and has this unbelievable dry wit. We understand and take care of each other. I can’t imagine not being with him now that we’re mated.” Which sounded unbelievably corny, definitely something he and Scott would have made fun of before the entire mess started, but it was the truth.

Ms. Morrell leaned back in her chair and offered him a soft smile, “Well, it sounds to me like you’ve adjusted to this transition quite well, despite the unusual circumstances that brought you there.”

“I’m happy,” Stiles said. It was true, he’d never been happier. He had an attentive mate who pushed him as much as he tended to him, he had a huge, hilarious pack, and the town was finally starting to right itself.

“And I’m happy for you, Stiles. Remember that you’re welcome here at any time.”

He smiled and nodded as he got up to leave, knowing he wouldn’t be back.

 

That next night it was his and Peter's turn to choose the meal, so he met up with the alpha in his office on the first floor to discuss the menu. The room was similar to Talia's but with light wood instead of dark. He recognized some of those books, too, but it looked like Peter had gone far afield to acquire some of the more exotic texts. Stiles recognized half a dozen languages on the spines, and several he couldn't identify.

"So,” he said, “before we jump right into things, I have to ask you something that's been bothering me for a while." Pretty much since Peter had willingly allowed himself to be led away in handcuffs for Kate Argent's murder, never once saying anything to defend his actions. It had been Stiles’ testimony that got him off, that and Chris Argent's refusal to press charges and disavowing his family’s actions.

Peter looked up from the tablet he was using and nodded, "Go ahead."

Stiles smirked, "Okay, well, what was with your whole creeper routine you had going on around me? I mean, before Derek and I exchanged bites, I guess I get it, but what about that day in the hospital?" They'd never discussed it, none of the Hales ever brought it up, the business with Kate or Peter's involvement or anything.

"Why do you think?"

He had several vague theories, but suddenly he knew. "It was all a test, wasn't it?"

Peter smiled, not his creepy smile, but a genuine one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed laugh lines Stiles' hadn't known were there. "I always thought you were clever, Stiles, thank you for not disproving my theory. Yes, it was a test, albeit not a very nice one-"

_That was an understatement._

"-but Andrew and I needed to be certain you were pursuing Derek out of affection and not simply as a means to an end. We worried, when you ran off on us, but seeing the way you looked at him when he came into the hospital room after Kate, well, that was the only thing I needed to see to be sure of your commitment to my nephew."

"I love him."

"I know. We know that, now, but Kate. Kate did some terrible things without thinking of the consequences. Derek's pre-bond with her, when she severed it, that took a toll on him. I hate myself for having been party to his suffering, but at the time I was blinded by her pretty face and cunning words just as he was. All I've wanted since then was to see Derek happy, and now he is, with you."

"We are," Stiles agreed, then hesitated for a moment before he asked, "Are you?"

Peter gave a self-deprecating smile. "I've certainly felt worse, but yes, I think I just might be on the verge of happiness. I have a date tonight, actually, so if you wouldn't mind helping me decide what we're going to make, I need to get cleaned up and ready to go."

_A date?_

Stiles gave a low whistle, "Uncle Peter has a date, what is the world coming to?"

The sassy look he got in return was worth the alpha's refusal to compromise over their selection of meat for dinner.

"Fine, fine, venison is fine," Stiles eventually said. "Okay, whatever, but we're having dessert first."

"As my lord omega commands," Peter said, clearly still smug about his victory.

"Ass."

"Brat."

"So who's the date with? Anyone I know?" Stiles asked, just to be petty.

Peter rolled his eyes, "As if I'd tell you, knowing that you'd go straight to Andrew to rat me out."

"You reap what you sow."

"Indeed," Peter said with a far-off look in his eyes. "Well, it's been less tedious than I imagined this would be, so I will bid you adieu and we can gather the ingredients we've agreed upon and meet up tomorrow afternoon. Have a lovely night, Stiles, but be a _dear_ and let the others know not to stay up for me?" The smirk was back.

Stiles wrinkled his nose, "Ew, gross, dude! Get out of here!"

Peter left laughing, and Stiles couldn't help chuckling in response.

 

Stiles climbed onto Derek's lap, straddling him and reveling in the feel of the firm hands holding his hips as he teasingly pressed down, sending a jolt of sensation through his body. He smiled as Derek bitten back a moan, then licked his way into his mate's mouth, hot and yielding against his tongue.

"Are you receptive?" Stiles asked when he pulled back. Not that it mattered, he could bare their cubs, but he wanted to know as much about the alpha as he possibly could, seeing that they were mated for life.

Derek stilled and looked Stiles in the eyes with an assessing kind of frown. "No, I don't think so. I was never tested, but not many of the alphas in my family carry that gene.”

Of course he hadn't been tested. In some circles, like the ones Stiles had found online, a pregnant alpha was considered unseemly in the extreme. Stiles snorted and went back to peppering his mate's face and neck with kisses. "It doesn't matter, I guess, I just wanted to know if we both needed to use protection until we come up with a plan for our future.”

"Protection?" Derek said, bless his alpha heart.

Stiles leaned his head against his mate's shoulder to hide his smile. "Derek, my mate, I may be on my suppressors now, but when I’m in heat they won’t work. And unless we want me being a teen father, you’re going to have to wrap it before you tap it.”

Derek groaned and leaned his head back, giving Stiles a delicious line of neck to nip and suck. The groan turned into a moan as the firm hands dragged Stiles’ weight down until their clothed erections were sliding against each other. “Do you want to mount me, is that what this is about?” Derek asked, gasping at a particularly hard grind.

“Hm, sounds like we need to have some kink negotiations before we proceed with the main event,” Stiles said, pulling back enough to give them room to breath and think.

The alpha pouted prettily, not that Stiles would ever tell him that, and rubbed his thumbs in circles against Stiles’ hips. “Why don’t you ride me right now, and then we’ll talk.”

That was a _very_ tempting offer.

“You do know there’s a hunt in about twenty minutes, right? We’re all going out to get a deer for tomorrow’s dinner.”

Derek shrugged, “You could always stay behind and act as the omega in residence.”

“Remember the last time that happened?”

“You mean our first kiss?”

Stiles snorted, “Yes, that, and then I drugged you with omega pheromones and ditched you guys to go get kidnapped by crazy people.”

His mate frowned. “And you’re saying you’re going to do that again because I’m fairly certain all of the hunters are in jail or dead.”

“No, I’m saying I’m not sure if your family would trust me after that.”

Derek’s hands slid up his chest, over Stiles’ shirt and then to lightly grip his face, thumbs on the underside of his jaw. “Stiles, my family, they love you. You’re a Hale as much as you are a Stilinski, now. If you want to hunt, we can hunt, but if you want to fuck for hours without anyone overhearing, I’m certainly game for that as well.”

And wasn’t _that_ a choice.

On the one hand, Stiles had found hunting with the pack to be a unique and exhilarating experience he was always eager to repeat, but then again he and Derek had been mated for a month without really being able to express themselves vocally. At least not quite as loudly as Stiles wanted unless they locked themselves in a heat room and were willing to suffer Laura and Peter’s endless ribbing when they emerged. Otherwise, it was difficult to justify that kind of throaty moaning when there was a six year old down the hall and in-laws a wall away.

“Now that is quite an offer,” Stiles said as he leaned in for another kiss, “and I believe I’ll choose what’s behind door number two, as long as you’re willing to enter into some pre-game negotiations with me. We have much to discuss.”

Derek grinned and his hands abruptly dropped down to squeeze Stiles’ ass. “Ride me, first,” he whispered.

“Derek Augustus Hale!” Laura yelled from the other side of their bedroom door and it took all of Derek’s strength and grace to keep Stiles from taking a header off the chair.

“Holy hells,” he muttered, “you alphas need to work on the whole creeping up on people schtick.”

“You, too, Vyacheslav,” Andrew said with an unmistakable smile.

“Vya-what?” Derek said, sounding confused.

Stiles refused to lift his head from his mate’s neck, feeling his own face turn beet red. “That would be my legal name, and no, I don’t ever ever want you to call me that. As a kid I named myself Stiles for a reason.”

Derek was chuckling and ran a hand over Stiles’ back. “As you wish,” he said, somehow magically making the whole awkward situation better. Louder, he said, “We’re staying behind tonight, and unless you all want to learn a lot more about us than anyone is comfortable with, you’ll be out of the house enjoying the hunt.”

“Understood,” Andrew said as Laura made a disgusted noise. “Ugh, the newly mated.”

“As if you were any better,” her father said, voice fading as they walked down the hall.

Stiles took the opportunity to explore the delicate skin of his mate’s throat with his tongue and teeth. “I believe you had a proposal for me?”

“Indeed,” Derek said, bringing his hands to the button of Stiles’ jeans. “I believe I was about to slide inside your slick passage as you got yourself off on my cock.”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, feeling a flood of arousal shoot straight to said passage and his own cock, tightening the pants Derek was attempting to slide off of him, but the angle was awkward, so in a few short moves he shredded them with his claws, careful not to scratch skin.

“That will never not be hot, but I was actually kind of fond of those,” Stiles said as he worked on Derek’s own button and zipper. He didn’t have the added benefit of claws on demand, but he still managed to pull down his mate’s jeans enough to reveal him in all his commando glory. “And this will never not be amaz-”

Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off as two fingers slipped into him and he shuddered out a breath.

“Oh, gods, yes, shirts. Off. Ung, more. Harder.”

Derek _chuckled_ and _twisted his fingers_ and it was really terribly unfair. “I’m not sure what to do with so many commands at once, mate. Which would you like, first?”

Stiles was not above somewhat petty retaliation. He looked at the alpha through his eyelashes, coquettish and blushing with arousal as he bit his bottom lip. Derek’s eyes zeroed in on Stiles’ mouth as he opened it with a soft moan. “Well, _mate_ ,” Stiles said as he wrapped one hand around Derek’s cock, sliding his thumb around the tip to gather the precome that had gathered there and wrenching a grunt from the alpha as he dragged his other hand up his chest, rucking his shirt up in the process. “If you’re going to play chicken with me, I assure you I _will not_ lose.”

Derek barked a laugh and slipped his fingers free to help tug his shirt off, then quickly divested Stiles of his own. “Noted,” he said, kissing Stiles with the kind of bruising intensity that they both loved.

When they separated to take heaving, smiling breaths, Stiles moved his hands to grip his mate’s firm shoulders. “I believe you had a specific request, did you not? Something about me, what was it? Riding you? Until I, what?”

“Oh, really, you want me to repeat myself?” Derek’s sassy look was one of Stiles’ favorites, but the tips of his ears were red and his pupils were so dilated it was hard to see more than a thin ring of hazel around the edges.

He hummed and dropped one of his hands to wrap around both their cocks, “Or, if you’d rather not talk dirty to me, I could always get us off like this. Either way is fine by me.”

Derek growled, his eyes flashing red before he gripped Stiles by the thighs and lifted, making him lose his grip on the two of them. “You’re going to ride me, hard and fast, moaning and cursing, until you come from it. Any objections?”

Stiles smiled and kissed Derek’s swollen lips. “Oh, no, I have zero objections to that plan.”

“Good,” Derek said as he lowered Stiles right onto him, both of them groaning at the sensation.

“Fuck, Derek,” he moaned, rolling his hips to pull the sweet sound of a gasp from his mate’s lips, “This always feels amazing. You feel amazing.”

The alpha pressed his mouth to Stiles collarbone and nipped at the flesh there. “Keep talking,” he said as his hands moved to hold Stiles’ hips again, setting a quick pace. “Like this.”

He loved that Derek enjoyed hearing him talk, even during sex, which he hadn’t really been aware was actually acceptable before he’d started having some of his own. A lot, really. They had sex a lot. He found a slightly more comfortable position for his knees and took over, varying the speed and depth to make it feel as good for the two of them as he could.

It felt _very_ good.

“You’re so unbelievably stunning,” Stiles said, knowing that Derek was sometimes put off by people’s reaction to his gorgeous face. “But I love what’s inside,” he paused to moan as Derek’s cock hit the perfect spot inside of him in a star-burst of sensation, “inside of you even more.” He gasped, pressing his forehead against his mate’s shoulder. “Fuck, Derek,” he said as he slammed down, hand on his own cock keeping pace with his slightly frantic movements.

One of Derek’s hands seized the back of his neck, pulling him away so they could see each other’s expressions. His mate’s face was flushed and sexy, eyes red and a hint of fangs visible through his parted lips. “I love you, Stiles,” he said, and drew them into a heated kiss.

Stiles rode him a few more times before his orgasm took over, making him clench and moan and spill his seed across his mate’s stomach and chest even as he could feel the hot sensation of Derek doing the same inside of him. They rode out their climax together, until they were too sensitive from it and Stiles reluctantly stumbled to his feet. He could feel the combination of come and his lubricant running down his thighs, but that didn’t matter as much as kissing Derek again, of touching his skin and caressing him, pushing him back onto their bed and climbing on top of him so their lips wouldn’t have to be separated for long.

“I love you,” Stiles said as he peppered Derek’s relaxed face with kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Derek smiled and flipped them so he was leaning over Stiles, a hand hot against his stomach. “I will always love you, too, my mate. Now, what was this about kinks?” he asked, lowering his mouth onto one of Stiles’ nipples with a wicked grin.

“You dirty-” Stiles gasped, but he was smiling, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends, with sexy times and hopefully some closure. Thanks for joining me for this wild ride!

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found at ravingrevolution.tumblr.com


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